by Emma Slate
“You still didn’t answer my question. What happened to you the first time you came here?”
“Xan and I were foolish and hadn’t yet come into our powers.” Thane’s tone was wistful, his gaze resting on a faraway sand dune. “We got trapped here. Walked in circles for…what turned out to be twenty human years. We were buried under sand avalanches, and even after we clawed our way out of them, another would come. We were also taken prisoner by the Iron Soldiers. They’re faceless warriors wearing iron armor. They’re…well, I think they’re enchanted, but they’re tied to the desert.”
“Who enchanted them? Who do they belong to?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. They were here long before my father and his father before him. Just one of those things.”
I bit my lip and nodded, lost in thought.
“They captured Xan and me, chained us up, and let the scorpions feed on us.”
“Holy hell.”
“Father came to our rescue, but not before we’d lost a few layers of skin.”
My stomach rebelled at the mental image.
“And I’ve never been back to the desert since.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” he repeated with a nod.
I took his hand in mine. “Then let’s make a vow that when we get out of this alive, we’ll never come back here.”
“Please, yes,” Thane growled. “Never again.”
We continued on in silence. The moons finally set and the sun rose, a blazing yellow disk that heated my skin and felt like it had reached inside my body to scorch my bones. Even with the suit on, I struggled.
I wished for something to keep the sun off me.
A moment later, I felt a hat on my head and sunglasses perched on my nose. The spiders reached out with their mental connection, asking if I approved.
Thane let out a laugh.
“What?”
“That hat is too big for your head.”
I reached up to take it off. It was one of those floppy boho hats women wore on beach vacations.
“I like it. Actually”—I set it back on my head—“I love it.”
The spiders hummed with pleasure.
“Like yours are much better? You can’t pull off a cowboy hat and aviators,” I lied, gesturing to the accessories his own spiders had given him.
“Oh, really?” he teased.
How about this picture?
He showed me a vision of him in chaps and bare-chested.
“Damn,” I said with a grin. “You win.” I looked across the desert and stopped. The landscape had changed while I hadn’t been paying attention. Dunes had shifted. I looked behind us at our trail. Our footsteps had disappeared.
“Oh, I see what you mean,” I said.
“That wasn’t even that bad yet.”
“Why do the dunes shift?”
“My father had a theory. He thinks the desert knows when things aren’t naturally from here. So it tries to both remove us and kill us. Most creatures, with enough time in the sun and without water will die.”
“Interesting theory,” I murmured.
We trekked on.
“Do you think asking our spiders for hats and sunglasses have left a magic trail?”
“Probably.”
“Why don’t you seem concerned about it?”
He shrugged. “We’ve already used magic a few times. You with the Flowers of Fire. Then I used magic to remove your human heart. I have no doubt Xan knows where we are, and he will strike when he’s ready. But right now, he’s not. Either his attention is diverted, or he’s waiting for the perfect moment to kill me.”
“Us. Kill us,” I corrected.
“I’m not sure he wants to kill you,” Thane murmured.
“What happened to her?” I asked suddenly. “The human you were going to marry? You said Xan took her from you…”
He paused. “He gave her a choice. To be with him, or die. She took her own life.”
Thane’s tone was bleak. Even after thousands of years, the memory and pain still sounded fresh. I wanted to pull him to me, but he beat me to it. Suddenly, I was in his arms, his face against my neck.
“I am not her,” I whispered. “I am immortal. I command an army of spiders. Let’s hope Xan and I never meet face to face. For his sake.”
A shudder worked its way through him.
I held him tighter as rage poured through me, rage I thought had disappeared. I was capable of hate. I wanted to see Xan. I wanted to make him suffer for what he’d done to Thane, his own brother.
The reckoning would come, and he’d tremble in fear before he died.
Before I killed him.
Chapter 28
Thane pulled away and discreetly reached under his sunglasses to wipe his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to—it’s this place.”
I thought about pushing back, telling him I knew he felt comfortable enough with me to finally be open and vulnerable, to show me how deep his brother’s betrayal had cut him. It was a wound that hadn’t healed with time, and if anything, had only festered.
“This place,” I repeated. “Right.” I adjusted the sunglasses on my nose. I turned away from Thane to give him a moment to himself. We were connected, and I was acutely aware that I felt what he felt. My tongue was coated with bitterness, anger, resentment, and heartache for the years he’d lost.
Thane and I shared everything now, whether we wanted to or not. We didn’t even really have our own alone places—even within our own minds, our mental link burned bright and hot. It pulsed with emotions and words not needed to be spoken. We had no true privacy any more. I tried to retreat, to let him close the door of his mind, to keep me out so he could put the pieces of his broken psyche back together.
You don’t need to do that.
Don’t you want some privacy?
Thane’s eyes were shielded behind his lenses, and I desperately wanted to see how they looked. Would they be swirling with shadows? Would I see clouds of insanity in them, or would they be clear and infinite like the ever-expanding universe?
He slowly removed his sunglasses. His eyes were dark, glittering.
Maybe once, I would’ve wanted to shield myself from you. Keep a part of me tucked away. But I don’t think for a moment that you’d ever use my weaknesses against me. You’re not my enemy, Poppy.
Wanting a safe space to call your own does not mean we’re not partners.
He shrugged. See me. I’ve nothing to hide. Not from you, and not anymore.
It hardly seems fair, I countered. I don’t have a history like yours. I don’t have the aching regret of losing someone I loved. Not in the same way you do.
“You loved Hunter, yes?” he asked. There was no hurt in his voice anymore at the mention of Hunter.
“I did. But it was”—I searched for the right words and then used his own explanation—“my human heart. It was my mortal life. I loved him, human to human. It’s not the same as the way I feel about you.”
I paused, gathering the words. “You are bigger than life, Thane. Immortal. It only makes sense that my emotions are magnified for you. They’re bigger, brighter.” I smiled slightly. “I think even if I’d remained human, I would’ve chosen you. But as a human, I couldn’t—there were too many things to feel. And I didn’t have the capacity to feel them. Not all the way. But now…”
He nodded. “I understand. I loved her as an immortal loved a human. I had to…hold back. It was too much for one person. It’s why I held back with you. In the beginning. But when you began to change, I let the syphon open. There’s no stuffing my feelings back inside. They’re free.”
I nodded. “Free. Yes.”
“Do you feel trapped? Are you still cursing fate that you weren’t given a choice?”
“We all have choices,” I said. I cocked my head to the side in thought. “Cassandra chose to go mad. I could’ve done the same.”
He smiled slightly. “But you’re no martyr.”
My hand caressed Thane’s jaw. “My broken heart became half a heart. I turned immortal. My human self didn’t want the burden of freeing you and stopping Lucifer. My immortal self realized the sacrifice we all made for the sliver of a chance to save the world.”
“Convoluted, isn’t it? Discussing ethics and philosophy, fate and free will, when you’re an immortal.”
“As you pointed out, forever is a long time. But we’re not stagnant, despite our immortality. Right?”
He smiled. “You consider yourself one of us now, don’t you?”
I nodded slowly. “You can’t fight fate. If you try, you’re only fighting yourself.” I squared my shoulders and turned my attention back to the endless miles of sand and sun. “We should keep going. Even if we walk in circles, it will keep the insanity at bay.”
Thane paused for a moment and then said, “Sometimes making a choice—even the wrong choice—is better than doing nothing at all.”
“You may not have been my choice in the beginning, Thane. But you’re my choice now.”
Chapter 29
“Are you sure the barren tree will be here? In the desert?” I asked as we started walking again.
“That’s what the prophecy said.”
“Barren tree in the barren desert,” I muttered. “How freakin’ poetic.”
Thane chuckled.
“How are we going to find the tree? Will it find us? Is that how prophecies and magic work?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I—” The sliding sound of sand stopped me mid-sentence. I listened and looked, trying to discover which direction it was coming from. I’d seen the dunes shift and reassemble, and they’d never made any noise.
No.
This was something different.
Thane?
Don’t move.
Thane’s stance altered, his legs widening, his arms alert at his sides. I quickly turned my eyes back to the horizon.
The desert sounded like one giant hourglass, and I was standing underneath the spigot as pebbles of sand poured over me.
A black curved horn popped up through the sand and froze for a moment. And then it continued to rise, elongating. I blinked and watched an entire claw appear—a claw the size a coffee table—followed by a body.
An exoskeleton with a stinger.
The giant desert scorpion loomed over us, waving its pincers in our direction, its tail whipping back and forth. It darted forward, as if testing the air, and then retracted.
I swallowed, thinking about being impaled by its stinger.
This wasn’t in the travel guide.
Thane’s rumble of amusement came through loud and clear. Relax. I’ve got this under control.
I’m pretty sure that thing wants to tear us limb from limb and then drag our carcasses underneath the sand, back to its dark lair.
Oh, that’s not how these guys work.
No?
No. He paused. They’ll eat us in broad daylight, given the chance.
You’re not so good with the comforting thing, Thane.
Thane laughed out loud, drawing the attention of the scorpion. Sunlight highlighted its dark purple body. At certain angles, it appeared black.
The scorpion crept closer, no doubt wishing to investigate the unnatural beings that didn’t belong in its domain. It lowered its head—two beady eyes blinked at us.
I swallowed in fear.
My spiders pulsed with nervous anticipation. They wanted to be let out, unleashed.
But what could they do?
Let them out.
Who let the spiders out? Who, who, who, who, who?
Not really the time for that, Poppy.
Right. Sorry. I’m focusing now.
While I was acting a bit hysterical, Thane looked remarkably composed, and not at all concerned that there was no escape from the massive beast in front of us, which was currently snapping its pincers in eager anticipation.
I called my spiders. They poured from my mouth and dropped to the ground. Their black metal bodies glittered in the sharp sunlight. They scurried across the sand, up the scorpion’s thin legs, to cover the scorpion’s purple-black body. The scorpion now looked coated in shiny black armor. It flailed and bucked onto its hind legs, trying to dislodge my spider army. But they were relentless and gripped the scorpion’s back, attempting to subdue it.
The scorpion brayed. Dunes trembled and my ears throbbed from the vibrations. “What do we do now?” I yelled over the noise of the disgruntled scorpion.
Thane shot me a look. “I got it.”
He opened his own mouth—and instead of spiders—his black silk shot out, unraveling like a spool of yarn. It snaked around the legs and claws of the scorpion, causing the monster to fall to the sand.
I glanced at Thane and grinned. “Nicely done.”
“Right?”
I could find a really enjoyable use for my spider silk.
Laughing, I took a step toward him. His silk and my spiders had the scorpion conquered. “Well, what do we do now?”
Thane tossed an arm across my shoulder. “Now, we have a ride.”
“A ride?” I looked back at the angry scorpion. Spider silk had wrapped up the stinger to make it ineffectual.
“We vanquished it, didn’t we?”
“We did,” I agreed.
“Do you really want to continue trekking through the desert on foot?”
“No. But I don’t really want to get close to that thing either.”
The scorpion was huffing, breathing heavily, its black eyes full of rage. I reached out with my mind, asking its permission to approach, asking if it would take us across the hot sand.
Reluctance poured through the connection I had with it. Reluctance but something else too….
“It’s curious about us,” I said.
“Scorpions are arachnids,” he pointed out.
“So you’re related to that thing? Is that your cousin?”
I felt a wave of great offense coming from both Thane and the scorpion. “Okay, this is officially weird.”
Thane took my hand and led me toward the purplish-black body lying in the sand. Thane tapped one of the legs. “Use this as a step.”
“This thing doesn’t breathe fire does it?” I asked when I felt a wave of anger and revulsion roiling through my mind.
“No, Poppy. It’s not a dragon.”
I peered over my shoulder at him. “A…dragon?”
Thane smiled. “Yep. Dragons are real.”
“Of course they are.” I turned my focus to the task. I lifted my leg and placed a hand on the scorpion’s body. I bit my lip, holding in a laugh.
With Thane’s help, I was able to mount astride, like one might ride a horse. Thane easily swung up behind me. The silky tendrils wrapping around the body of the scorpion released and whipped up in the air. Thane caught them, holding one on each side like reins.
I couldn’t help it; I started to giggle when Thane gently kicked the scorpion in the sides, and we set off at what could only be described as a scorpion-trot.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone dry with amusement.
I leaned back against him. “I’m trying to come up with the scorpion equivalent of a cowboy.”
Thane’s laugh was light. “If you think of anything clever, let me know.”
“What will you give me for it?”
“Me. In ass-less chaps.”
Our collective laughter startled our ride, so I leaned down to pet the scorpion’s shell.
I was riding a gigantic purple-black scorpion, through the Desert of the Forgotten, with the Guardian of the Bridge behind me.
Sighing, I shook my head.
“What?”
&nbs
p; “I was just thinking…I know this is real. But a part of me still thinks this is just one long acid trip.”
Chapter 30
Night fell over the desert. The air didn’t cool, nor was there a breeze to lift the drenching heat. The Plum moon was now the biggest and the brightest as the three of us traipsed across the land. Our ride’s shell had turned from purplish-black to neon blue.
The bloody thing was glow-in-the-dark.
It walked steadily and silently, its legs skating across dunes that continued to shift.
Thane pointed out a speck in the distance, but due to the warring light sources, I couldn’t tell what it was.
Use your eyes.
I am using my eyes.
Your other eyes.
I have other eyes?
A sigh came through our connection.
Don’t take that tone with me.
His impatience morphed into amusement.
Go, go spidey eyes!
That’s not how it works.
Then teach me, Yoda.
Let’s try this again, shall we? Relax your eyes. Loosely focus on what’s in the distance.
After I’d gotten onto the back of the scorpion, I’d opened my mouth, and my spiders had crawled back inside. I went into the place inside myself and reached out to them. They vibrated with gratitude, wanting to be used. They were mine to command, and they were itching to be valuable.
Suddenly, it felt like I could see with thousands of eyes, all around me, at night. I could pick out individual grains of sand. I could decipher colors despite the different sources of moonlight.
And there, off in the distance, where Thane had pointed, was a ship. Even from our spot, I could see the coppery tones on rusted metal.
There’s a ship here?
The desert was once an ocean. We’re riding what used to be a sea scorpion, but it has since adapted to live here.
But how? The ship…
The dunes shift constantly, right? That process of shifting both buries and unearths things out here. Think of this as one giant snow globe, but instead of snow, it’s sand. When the globe shakes, things change, shift, and resettle.
