The Fallen Prince kol-2

by Shea Berkley

  Without warning, the mirror hanging on the wall shatters. I lunge at Kera, protecting her with my body as the shards crackle and fall to the floor.

  When it grows quiet, I pull away. Kera’s perfectly fine except her fingertips are glowing. I take a step back, frowning. “Kera? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  She’s shaking. She goes to the bed and sits, curling until her elbows dig into her thighs and her hands rake through her long hair. “I don’t know. I made it break. I know I did, but I didn’t mean to. Something is not right. I can feel it. Like something else is inside me trying to get out.”

  That sounds familiar. Didn’t I think the same thing about myself before Bodog showed up? But now, because of him and his gloomy news, we’re all on edge. I touch her hair. “It’s going to be fine.”

  Her head pops out of her hands and she stares helplessly up at me. “How? I don’t feel normal. Do you understand? I’m not the same and neither are you.”

  The presence of something wicked skitters under my skin. I know exactly what she means, but I’ve lived a lifetime ignoring strange sensations. I push this one to the side, too, and rub a hand over the sudden goose bumps on my arms.

  My bedroom door bursts open and Bodog darts inside. His face is tight with apprehension. “It’s here!”

  A series of shotgun blasts rip through the air. I glance toward the window. “What’s going on?”

  Bodog doesn’t answer. His attention is caught by the shattered mirror.

  Grandma appears at the door and clings to the frame, her face flexed with anger. “I’m a good Christian woman, but that…that creature has got to go. He’s made a mess in the cellar. Dog food is everywhere.”

  I don’t care about dog food; it’s the shotgun blasts that riddle the otherwise quiet that have my attention now. “Who’s shooting?”

  “Your grandfather said Reggie’s seeing things. He’s been on edge since…well, you know. He’s not supposed to use a gun so close to the house.”

  I don’t think sending Grandpa alone to confront a guy with a gun is such a wise move, and I mutter something to that effect.

  When I make to go and help him, she plants herself in front of the door and settles her hands on her hips, refusing to be pulled from her main mission. “Oh no you don’t. Your grandfather doesn’t need your help, I do. You’re staying right here, and you’re going to do something about him,” she says, pointing at Bodog.

  Bodog, Kera, Grandma, and now Reggie, my frustration level is climbing higher by the second, and I snap. “What do you want me to do? I can’t poof him back to Teag.”

  Her gaze jolts from Bodog to the mirror. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. What’s he done now?”

  Before I can tell her the broken mirror isn’t Bodog’s fault, a strange hush settles in the room. The air grows heavy, unbreathable. Bodog stares into the broken pieces and they begin to rattle, then jump, twirling and flexing as they rise off the floor. Colors flash within their depths, the air sizzles, and a splinter of blinding light flashes. A puff of air slams into me, and I stagger back. When I refocus, the mirror is again a shower of bits scattered on the floor and Bodog is bent over, gasping.

  Grandma’s eyes grow wide. She backs up, turns, and runs down the hall calling for Grandpa.

  Her panic is infectious. Rising from the bed, Kera’s fingers curl into her T-shirt hem. Slowly, she draws near Bodog. “What do you see?”

  Bodog stares at the broken bits. His brow wrinkles deep, and his hands flex against his knees. “Bad.”

  A gnarled finger points toward the mess. “Deceit.” He turns. His eyes lift to mine. “Terrible pain.” He then peers at Kera, who has grown still with fear. “What disaster have you wrought?”

  Her face pales. “Nothing.”

  Bodog stabs his finger toward the mirror. “You did this.”

  I put a protective hand on Kera’s arm and step forward, staring Bodog down. “She didn’t mean to do anyth—”

  “Her future,” he interrupts even as he shrinks away from me. “Her doing.”

  Kera steps back as if he hit her. “No.”

  A dark condemnation appears on the little man’s face. “Yes.”

  Trembling, her hand rises to her lips. The slow shake of her head is joined by a sharp sob. Grandma and Grandpa arrive, and amid Grandma’s demand that Grandpa get rid of our destructive guest, I grab Bodog by the shoulders and force him to look at me. “Show me what you saw.”

  “Only Bodog sees.”

  Grandpa crosses his arms against his bulldog chest. “Okay. I’ve about had it. Reggie’s shooting at shadows and now this. What kind of trick are you playing?”

  “No trick.”

  The force of Bodog’s assertion chases away the derisive tip to Grandpa’s lips. Stepping forward, Grandpa crouches, and when he nudges an oddly twinkling shard, an electric charge skitters from one piece to another. He jerks his hand away, and our eyes meet. I can see my sudden apprehension reflected in his hazel eyes. An understanding crosses between us. This is the beginning of something more. Something bigger. Dangerous.

  I turn to find Kera gone.

  Bodog tugs at my shirt, bringing my attention to him. His fingers clutch at the fabric, and when he speaks, his voice is edged with distress. “The truth fights to be seen.”

  The truth? What truth? I really hate it when he talks like this.

  “The truth fights to be seen,” I murmur. “Fights to be seen…”

  I rub my arms, stilling the prickle of power humming under my skin.

  That’s it! Kera and I are fighting to hold back a terrible power that’s within us. My sudden catch of breath grabs Grandpa’s attention. “This isn’t about Bodog, it’s about Kera and me, about the new powers we took from Navar.”

  An ear-piercing screech shakes the house timbers. We all look at each other. “And that’s no imaginary shadow,” I say.

  “It’s here,” Bodog rasps and slinks into a corner, his eyes wide with fear.

  “What’s here? What is it?”

  Bodog doesn’t say, he only crouches into a tight, frightened ball. “It will not stop,” he rasps.

  Another quick series of shotgun blasts sound.

  “George?” Grandma’s voice rises in panic.

  Grandpa’s muscles tense from jaw to toe. The hardened soldier is back. He wraps his arm around Grandma and pushes her toward the door. “Let’s get you into the cellar.”

  “I’m not going into the cellar without you.” Defiance colors her words.

  I can see the lie before Grandpa says it. He pats her arm. “We’re all going.”

  As Bodog whimpers and covers his ears against another shotgun blast, my mind whirls with possibilities. Bodog believes Kera let some kind of evil out. It’s ridiculous. But then…my gaze lowers to the shattered mirror. What if she’s no longer as innocent as she appears?

  Another quick boom of a shotgun fills my ears. Kera’s out there.

  “Kera!”

  I spring into motion, push past my grandparents, and race down the hall.

  “Dylan! Stop!” Grandpa shouts. “We don’t know what we’re up against.”

  I ignore him. He’ll understand. There isn’t time. I have to find Kera before she gets hurt.

  Pounding Hearts

  I slam through the back door and trip down the stairs, yelling Kera’s name. The yard stands quiet and empty. The only sound comes from the back gate thumping in the evening breeze.

  I vault over a pile of lumber and jig around the old motorcycle Grandpa’s fixing up in his spare time. Busting through the gate, I come to a bone-jarring halt and snap my head to each side, searching the dirt path that runs behind the house. My whole body feels like a spring, ready to uncoil. Where is she?

  “Kera!” My call bellows sharply into the lengthening shadows.

  Another screech ripples on the air. Not a human sound—it’s too deep, too strong. It rumbles in my chest, rattling my ribs. The ground shakes—dirt rises, pebbles jump—as if a herd
of elephants is charging my way. I take a few steps toward the road and jump back as Leo tears around the corner of the fence.

  Eyes wide, he pumps his arms and spins his long, skinny legs in the fastest dash I’ve ever seen. As he rockets past, he yells, “Run!”

  I peer down the road and see Kera speeding my way, zigging this way and that, calling down thick branches as she passes. Behind her, a massive beast pounds the ground, easily snapping through the tree limbs. Its angular head bobs under a three-horned crest rising from a ruff of feathers. Little spikes poke down the bridge of its snout, which ends in a wickedly curved beak. Its front legs splay into sharp bird talons; its powerful back legs end in alligator claws that rip into the ground. The heavy tail whips back and forth.

  The beast gets so close to Kera its breath stirs her hair. Its thickly breasted chest rises and a pair of huge feathered wings snap wide. Its front talons reach toward Kera.

  I don’t think. I don’t plan. I dart forward, snatch her arm, and spin her away just as the beast grabs for her. With our hands firmly clasped, I haul her at breakneck speed in the opposite direction and rapid-fire a series of fireballs behind us. If I hit the beast, the scorching heat didn’t faze it.

  The wingtips sweep back. Strong feet pound the ground as it adjusts direction. I tug on Kera’s hand and make for the woods, but she resists. “That’s where it came from,” she pants.

  We head for the barn and dart inside. Slamming the door closed, I call on a thick carpet of entangled roots to grow up and around it, fusing the door to the ground. “This isn’t a good hiding place,” I say, but Kera’s already heading up the ladder to the hayloft.

  “It’s after me. Only me.”

  “How do you know that?” Just in case she’s right, I grab an old chamois lying over a stall railing, rub it up and down her arms and push it into a pile of hay near one of the far stalls before following her ascent. If we’re really lucky, whatever that thing is will get distracted by the scent and give us time to plan our escape.

  “It chose me over Leo.”

  “I’d choose you over Leo.”

  “I’m serious.” Her voice breaks on a thread of pure fear.

  “Okay, okay.” My attempt at trying to calm her isn’t appreciated, so I ask the obvious question as I place a hand on her buttock and force her higher. “What is that thing?”

  “A monster.”

  A massive bump to the door startles a yelp out of Kera. She freezes as claws scrape against the wood and roots.

  “No kidding? Where’d it come from?”

  “The woods.”

  I give her another nudge. “I think we would’ve known something like that was living in our backyard before now.”

  “It’s from Teag—a winged tri-top, but I don’t understand how that can be.”

  “Why?”

  “They are tiny creatures,” she huffs as she scampers the rest of the way up the ladder, “that live in the trees.”

  I saw one the first time I went to Teag. It was a tiny bird-lizard thingy that scampered along the tree limbs. “Well, it’s not tiny anymore. It looks like something out of a Tim Burton version of Jurassic Park.”

  I vault into the loft barely in time. With a heavy thud, the overgrown winged tri-top crashes through the door. Wood explodes into the barn and the structure groans as if it’s been knocked off its footing. Kera and I lie low. My heartbeat throbs painfully in my neck. I calm my breathing, but it’s not easy. I’m not used to being hunted by a huge bird-lizard. The beast snuffles and follows its sense of smell to the pile of hay where I hid the chamois.

  Seeing it tear into the hay gives Kera’s theory credence. We scooch back on our bellies, and when we’re far enough away, I pull Kera toward the open hay door, where a knotted rope swings from its mooring beneath the eaves and extends to the ground far below us. I lift her onto the rope and whisper, “When you reach the bottom, head for the woods.”

  “You don’t understand. No place is safe. Someone from my realm has sent it on a hunt. For me.”

  “Just do as I say, okay?”

  Braving her frustrated glance, I give her a hard kiss. Pulling away, I touch her flushed cheek. “Please.”

  She nods and starts the slide down. I lean out, my torso dangling precariously at an awkward angle as I steady the rope.

  A rush of goose bumps sweeps my arms, and instinct has me glancing over my shoulder. Leaning back inside, the sound of the rope’s bottom knot slapping the side of the barn fills my ears…and nothing else. The beast is quiet. I can almost imagine it tilting its head, listening to Kera’s rhythmic descent. What if it leaves and finds Kera outside? I have to do something.

  Spying a pitchfork, I snatch it up and dart over to the edge of the loft. My sudden stop causes loose hay to fly into the air, and I peer through the pale green stems floating downward. It’s what I feared. That thing’s head tilts, cocking its tuffed ear to the sound. I fix my aim and hurl the heavy tines at the animal’s heaving side. Little good it does. The metal bars ping off the scaly body and its spiky head snaps up. Its beady eyes latch on to me. I guess I’ve accomplished my goal. It’s no longer intent on the noise Kera’s making.

  “That’s right. I’m up here, you ugly hybrid.”

  The beast’s sides puff up and it lets out a bellow. A stable of barn owls hoot and flap their wings high above in the rafters. I back away. Kera had better be on the ground and running.

  As I back from the edge, the ladder shakes and I hear the wooden slats break. The scratch and smash of the beast trying to climb up the ladder is joined by another bone-jarring cry. My eardrums pop, and I turn to look back out the hay door.

  The rope swings freely, but Kera just stands there on the ground. I hiss at her to start moving, but she doesn’t hear me. She isn’t scared—I would feel it if she were. She’s up to something, and that usually means trouble.

  I jump on the rope, and in no time, slither to the ground. Kera’s wide-eyed gaze snares mine; she’s a porcelain statue, perfectly formed and fragile. Frightening growls and the sound of wood ripping apart shake the ground. The noise snaps her out of her trance. She stares wildly at the barn, an expectation that she’ll be captured any moment settling on her face. She believes the beast is after her, and from what I’ve seen, I agree, but she can’t give up.

  I don’t fall into the hypnotic fear that’s clawing up my spine. Instead, I grab her hand and pull her after me. We take off down the dirt road that lies between the ranch and the forest. When we’re far enough away, I turn and throw fire at the barn. The old, dry wood soaks up the flames that grow hot and high. I can feel the heat where I stand. Nothing can live through that.

  I’m totally wrong. The beast walks out of the flames, shaking the sparks off its feathers and body like water. The head twists from side to side, scanning the area for its prey.

  “Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Kera chants in disbelief even as I pull her along behind me.

  I scramble for a plan, but everything I think of has inherent flaws.

  The sound of the barn caving in crashes behind us. I feel Kera hesitate. “Don’t look back!” I yell.

  The ground quakes with the force of the beast’s pursuit. Our feet stumble. Kera falls. I tug her upright and force her to move.

  “It’s not going to stop.” Her tone holds a note of inevitability.

  “It will.” My promise is meaningless, and we both know it. “I’ve got to think.”

  Kera yanks her fingers out of mine and backs away.

  Each step hammers painfully against my heart. The beast is tearing up the road behind her, growing larger and larger as it nears. Its eyes lock on to Kera. Muscles expand. Contract. It rushes toward her like a runaway bull. Kera continues to back up, her face calm, yet her body quivers with fear.

  “No!” The word is ripped from my heart.

  I call on my powers and concentrate on a patch of dirt road. The earth rumbles, and a chasm splits the ground between Kera and the beast. With hands glowing, I
wait for the big, ugly lizard to tumble into the jagged rift so I can bury it.

  Wings snap out, and the beast begins to rise; its armored chest frames the background behind Kera’s body. She extends her arms as the beating of its wings snaps her hair forward and molds her shirt against her back in the sudden gust. “There’s only one way it will leave.”

  The monstrous thing soars over my trap. I uselessly hold out my hand. “Kera!”

  Her eyes pierce mine. How can she think sacrificing herself to save the rest of us is a good idea? My hand glows and a tree rips out of the ground and slams into the beast. Wood splinters everywhere. I do it again and again with the same results. It barely slows the thing down.

  I can’t stop what’s about to happen even if I want to, and that realization twists my gut. Just before the talons encase her upper arms, her plea is carried to me on the dirt-laden wind. “Let me go.”

  She’s suddenly jerked into the air. The beast bellows its triumph, shaking the leaves from the surrounding trees as it wheels about and carries Kera off toward Teag.

  Let her go? She knows I can’t. Just the thought rips into my heart. I need to follow her, but the first in me rises in a familiar, dangerous way. I know what’s coming, what I’m about to let loose. I fall to my knees, struggling with the power that’s building within me. I can’t use it. It’s too new. Too raw. I could easily kill not only the bird, but Kera.

  My skin burns brighter. The power wells up hotter and faster. Last time I felt like this, every living thing within a mile radius got burned to a crisp because of me. I slam my fists against the ground, cracking it open as I plunge my hands elbow-deep into the soil. My breathing shreds my lungs as I try to control my power. It’s no use. The first in me bursts to the surface. Kera is mine. No one has the right to steal her from me.

  I direct all that anger and energy into the earth. The dark magic that’s in me slithers over the ground, poisoning everything it touches as it races off the dirt road toward the forest.

  Grass turns brittle brown. Nearby, trees turn an ugly ash gray. My power kills everything it touches. Even the bugs deep in the soil sense my invasion. Those that make it to the surface sizzle and blacken.