“Is that all there is to it?” I ask meekly. “The Cruor, the Strigoi, and the Ankou? All fighting. And for what?”
He pulls one knee up and rests his elbow there. “The Chibold came along at some point. Before all that. After. During. I suppose they weren’t really considered important at first, not to the reshaping humanity anyway. But they are the only trustworthy connection to the Universe. What’s worse is that, through these wars, they are losing the host families they need to survive.”
“This sounds like...a mess I just don’t want to get involved in. Maybe it would be better if I went back, and the Universe can send someone else.”
“You don’t understand,” he says. “You can’t go back. Not yet.”
“Your ‘Universe’ has done enough wrong by now that they ought to be a little more open to the idea that they might be wrong about me. Don’t you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” This time, he looks at me, and I realize the smirk on his face isn’t as mocking as it appears on first glance. He’s frustrated—not with me, but with the way things are. “You see, it is a cycle that cannot break. The evil spirits need to be removed and the good allowed to remain. That is the bottom line, and that is where we come in.”
“So none of the Ankou are corrupt?”
“Well, no...some are...” William scratches the back of his head. “It’s more complicated than that. But that is why there is a war, and that is why we need you—someone to fight for good, to move the pure spirits and rid the earth of the evil ones.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Not yet, no. But if you were to become Ankou, you would.”
It’s a lot to take in, and now that he has explained it, I realize he is right. There’s no time to help me understand. I don’t want to understand. I just want to get back to Anna, and they said they can make that happen. No one in town even knows I have memories I want to get back to, so I have to try my odds with William and Tess. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.
“How does one become Ankou?” I ask finally.
“Either through birthright or through selection,” he says. “In your case, selection. But it will not happen until you accept your calling and drink what is in the cup.”
There’s something about the way he speaks that draws me in. That makes me feel as though I can trust him. Then again, maybe I only believed him because he was giving me hope to return to Anna.
“And you? Were you stolen from a life, too?” Could he possibly understand my plight?
“In a way, you could say my life was stolen from me,” he says, his tone dropping to a chill. “But if you mean to ask how I became Ankou, it was my birthright.”
I bite my lip and nod. Right. So he can’t understand. “Do you even know what happens to those who are moved? If I’m here, in this body, where is the body I was in before?”
His eyebrows perk up, as though fascinated by my question. “You’re...missing.”
“Well I know that, but—”
“Not in the way you think,” he says, and I stop to let him finish. “It’s more like...POOF—” His hands curl into little fists then his fingers pop open. “—gone.”
“Like I never existed?” My voice rises in pitch.
His hands relax back at his sides. “People still know you existed,” he says tenderly. “They remember you. Maybe put your picture on a milk carton.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Put my picture on a milk carton? Why?"
He drops his face and chuckles, shaking his head. “Maybe that was after your time. I only meant they would be looking for you.”
“But they won’t find me.”
“No, they won’t. The Universe needs to protect their efforts, though, and this is but one step in them doing so. You simply can’t be in two places at once.”
This, unfortunately, I know too well. “And when I return?”
“If you return, same thing. Poof, you are present again, and maybe people celebrate finding you alive. Or maybe it all undoes and you were never missing at all.”
If I return? I narrow my eyes.
“I know it’s a lot to take in. Only so much time can pass before it’s dangerous to the balance of things for you to return.” He places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and peace floods through me. “There’s only one way back. You know it, don’t you? You feel it?”
I do feel it. But is that good enough? I explore the open, honest expression on his face. The imperfections of small scratches on his cheekbone and a dimple on his nose. “Should I feel it?”
When he doesn’t answer, I tilt the chalice and look inside. The liquid is a blackish-purple, the color of blackberry juice, and smells just as pungently sweet. In that moment, I’m so thirsty I consider it, but just as soon as I do, I feel as though the foolish urge could not have come from me.
It comes from the Ankou, he’d said. What the hell does that even mean? I push the cup back toward him.
“I’m not drinking that,” I say, trying to honor my faltering logic.
I stand to leave, but before I reach the edge of the clearing, William darts in front of my path, crossing the clearing in long strides. He grabs my wrists with strong hands, and I no longer feel I can come and go as I please, yet still I do not feel threatened by him. I wonder if something in me has broken to make me this way.
“If you leave now, you will never see her again,” he says.
He’s not trying to hurt me, not trying to overpower my right to decide. No. I sense he’s trying to warn me, to protect me.
His breath is heavy, and I look up at him, trying for anger, but my heart stops. His hands are strong, and he’s impossibly tall—my head barely reaches his chest. And I feel...safe here.
Disgusted by my own attraction to him, I intend to pull away or tell him to let me go, but I am too thrown by what he knows. “How do you—”
“It is one of my gifts,” he says. “Whatever you knew about your previous life before we first met, the Universe imparted to me as well.”
“You know everything I think? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” he says reassuringly. “Only what you knew about your previous life before you met me.”
“Are you...are you one of the Ankou?”
“Not quite,” he says, slowly releasing my wrists, “though not quite not, either.”
I don’t run as perhaps I should. “And Tess?”
“She is Ankou,” he says, his voice rasping.
“And how did you two come together?”
His lips twitch down. “She was sent to me, same as you. I have not failed her yet, and I do not intend to fail you, either.”
His body, pressed against mine, warms my stomach and thighs. I’m staring at his lips, but I shift my focus to Tess, who stands near the fire pit with her arms crossed. There’s a transparent dome, noticeable only by the film it leaves in the air, arching over the clearing.
William clears his throat and steps back, dark eyes looking up. “It is so your town cannot find us.”
Now is when any sane woman would run. What would Verity think? But these people are the closest I’ve come to answers—the closest I’ve been to Anna—since I’ve arrived here. And if anything is worth risking my life for, it’s my daughter.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“That is of no consequence. Many will die if you do not help us.”
“I am not a fool,” I say sharply. “How you know of Anna, I don’t know, but my helping you will only delay my return to her.”
“Cordovae,” he says softly. My name from his lips warms my skin. “Your daughter’s birth is hundreds of years from now. You have time, I promise you. But the longer you take to join us, the more people who die.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of the Morts—the ones you need to trap—possess humans. They spread pestilence and disease and influence chaos. Through their host bodies, they wreak havoc. They derive enjoyment from destruction, an
d nothing can stop them but us bringing them to an ultimate end.”
“I have no desire to get wrapped up in this mess.”
William scoffs. “Do all the people of your time reek of selfishness?”
“Don’t you dare. You know nothing of who I am.”
“You know nothing of who you are, either!”
Tess stands and brushes off her skirts. “Oh, William,” she says, a smile in her voice. “How the tune changes when she’s getting on your nerves instead of mine.”
After giving Tess a glare, William snaps his scowl back in my direction. “Without your help, many people will die. I understand trusting two strangers in the woods is unappealing, perhaps risky, but this is necessary. These are your ancestors. Without them, there will be no you. The more people who die, the less likely it is your daughter will come to exist. There will be no Anna for you to return to.”
The revelation slams into me, and I step back. If I don’t help, I may not exist. Anna would not exist. But if I help, I risk my own life by fighting in a war I don’t want to be a part of. I would willingly do so if I knew Anna would be safe where she is, but I sense she is in danger.
“Perhaps it would be best for us not to exist,” I say. “Sometimes the alternatives are far more...unappealing, as you say.”
“You need to look beyond yourself and your daughter. Sometimes sacrifice is necessary for a greater good.”
I frown. “What greater good is worth sacrificing for that would not allow you your own happiness?” I ask, challenging him. “Show me a world you must sacrifice yourself to rescue, and I will show you a world that is unworthy of being saved.”
“You must understand what is at risk here.”
I’m not convinced I must, but it’s only fair to consider. “And you need my help? You truly cannot move forward without me?”
“Yes.” He holds out his hand, palm facing upward. “Please, at least come sit while we talk.”
I bite my lip, hesitant to join him again. I need time to think. My whole body feels tired, and my mind won’t stop pinging around all the possibilities: These people could be lying to me. Or they could be my only way back to Anna. I could die trying to return to her. Or she could never exist if I don’t try. I feel hopeless and hopeful at the same time.
It’s another fraction of a moment that feels like eternity before I reach out and take his hand. And once I do—once I feel his cool, comforting touch—I sense I’m on the right path. But as he leads me back to the fire, I ignore the tingles in my palm and along my forearms. What if my emotions are getting the best of me?
I sit on a log by the fire. Tess is gone, and panic at her sudden disappearance ravages my chest.
“She...left?” I ask. “Because of me?”
“She’ll be back.” William offers me the chalice once more.
“Tell me what this is.”
“If I tell you, you won’t drink it.”
I raise my eyebrow. “I won’t drink it if I don’t know what it is.”
His gaze roves over me, and he moistens his lips and takes a deep breath. “Blood,” he mumbles. “Ankou blood.”
My heart goes into full panic. They want me to drink blood? I shiver and lean back.
“Please, Cordovae. It sounds worse than it is. Trust me this once, and if I am wrong I will never ask you to trust me again.”
It only takes once, but something about the softness of his eyes compels me to believe him. Tentatively, I take the Ankou blood, but I do not drink. “What’s the story with Tess?”
William laughs. “Oh, you’ll grow to love her. She is like a little sister. A dangerous, sword-wielding little sister who is too smart for her own good.”
“You’re what—a decade her senior?”
“Tess is nearly an adult herself, but surely you can understand the need for family? She has none, nor do I.”
“Well, you don’t look like brother and sister. That would be a pretty large age gap.”
“Larger than you think,” he says, grinning. “While I would appear perhaps only a decade older than her, in life I have centuries of experience. Immortality has little to do with appearances.”
Immortality? Does being Ankou mean I’ll live forever?
“Is she always so...hostile?”
His shoulders dip with obvious weight. “It’s not personal. In your life here as Abigail, you have someone, don’t you? Most of us who arrive have someone outside of other elementals. Tess did not. Until she met me, she was raised by a family who ignored her, with no memories of her life before.”
“I just thought maybe you two were...you know...together?”
“Perhaps your mind is better put to other thoughts.”
Thoughts like whether or not I should trust him. Whether I should take this chance or walk away from what might be my only way back to Anna.
William and I stay up all night talking. The entire time, I feel a pit in my stomach—concern for where Tess has gone and whether she is safe. It seems she has been gone too long. She’s quite young to be on her own so long at night. More so, I don’t feel entirely comfortable alone with men, though I find myself at ease with William, content with the way his hand feels whenever it brushes mine.
What has come over me? I need to stay focused. I need to get back to Anna.
The sky is growing lighter, threatening sunrise, and William tells me my time is up. It’s time to choose. My face warms and my hands tremble, sloshing blood in the chalice.
“What happens if I drink this?” I ask, though it’s not as if he hasn’t explained it to me three times already. I’m stalling. But William is patient with me.
“If you become one of the Ankou, you will be able to fight with us to capture the Morts and guide them. We will teach you all you need to know.”
“Will it hurt?”
William shakes his head. “No, but the sunlight will become dangerous to your body. Too much time under the sun may cause you to undergo some changes.”
“What kind of changes?” I press.
“We’ve been over this, Cord,” he says. “Drink. It’s your only way back to Anna.”
I believe what this man says from my core, and that terrifies me. There’s always been the possibility I would die in this life, never finding a way back. But now I fear, whether I drink this or not, it’s a near certainty I will. I can’t shake the disgust of following through or the terror of what it might mean.
Have I really become so desperate?
I stare at the drink once more.
It’s my only hope.
January 1692
The next morning, I wake in my own home, not remembering my return or what happened after I drank from the chalice. But I know it happened, feel it in my core. The drink they gave me was Tess’ blood, and the magic they performed over the contents of the chalice were meant to make me one of the Ankou as well. I gag as I remember tasting the blood for the first time—feeling how thick it was on my tongue and in my throat. I’d known what I was about to drink, yet it wasn’t until then that I’d fully processed what I had done. It had taken a while before I finally stopped fighting it and acceptance took way, allowing the change to occur.
Now I’m here, lighter and more balanced. As I step out of bed, the morning does not feel as cold as the one before. The usual back and neck aches of early morning are absent today. I almost feel numb.
I half-wonder if last night was a dream, but the muslin covering my windows are a reminder of what William had told me. Still, I pull back the curtain to see if it is true. When the dull winter sun spills through my small bedside window, I can’t deny the transparent, vein-like wings that flutter behind me like clean linen in the wind. I cringe. My wings stretch down to my ankles, the bottom tips nearly grazing the floor, but I cannot understand their purpose; they are too thin to lift my body from the ground.
William said this would happen. That the wings are both a gift and a curse for the Ankou, though he hadn’t explained why.
Stay
to the shadows, he had warned. That’s what I am to do if I ever find myself without shelter during the day.
I smooth my hand over one of the cool muslin sheets. They offer a privacy I appreciate but that at the same time makes me feel trapped and alone. Perhaps I should have hung them sooner—these old windows tend to distort things. Once, sometime after I arrived here for the first time as Abigail, Verity said I gave her a start when she approached my house and thought she saw two of me inside. That could get a town like ours talking of witchcraft.
Even with the window coverings, the room is still quietly bright, and I smell the wet earth on a breeze that permeates in from outside. It must have rained again, but when? I came home and fell asleep only hours ago, and it hadn’t rained all night. The tweeting of birds reminds me of how dark my life has become, and I try to ignore their tune.
Although the muslin sheets block the direct rays of the sun that reveal my wings, they still tingle along my spine. I don’t know what I would do without the kindness of natural light. William said the shade of the trees in the forest would be enough to protect me, but I cannot get there without taking the open path, and I cannot risk the dangers of the sun on my flesh.
The sun, over enough years, can shrink the Ankou to the size of the dragonfly.
That’s what William had said, and I don’t want to be the size of a dragonfly. I won’t even try to imagine all the awkward stages I would hit in between.
I should be freezing—there’s no fire for warmth, and yet, the temperature feels more like a mild autumn day. Another benefit of the Ankou, perhaps? I wonder if I’m even still myself anymore.
At that thought, I glance to the heart-shaped birthmark on my wrist, gently caressing it with my finger. Did Abigail always have this, or did I bring it with me? I slip on a long dress that covers my arms all the way down past my wrist, hiding the mark.
Does William have such markings? Last night he had seemed so...flawless. Would my skin have that same golden glow in the moonlight now? I felt even more like I could trust him now. Even with his intense gaze, I hadn’t felt threatened by him, and my instincts are rarely wrong. But my instincts also told me the beautiful young woman with the pear-green eyes—Tess—wasn’t very fond of me, and I still can’t understand why.
COME, THE DARK: (Forever Girl Series Book Two) Page 5
