“That makes me a freak, too.”
“You’re not a freak, Hayden. You’re just different. We both are. But you had a normal childhood. You had a chance to get out of this place. I still had to live with my mother after she got messed up and tried to cut me once a month to see if my blood could bring upon the second coming of the Nibelungs.”
“I wouldn’t call my childhood normal. But I get your point.”
Hearing the bitterness in my tone, Shannon pins me with a long look that sends goose bumps all over my skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to diminish what you had to go through. But now do you at least have some kind of closure? You know, with this place?”
“Well, I grew up convinced my mom suffered from psychological issues and one night wandered into the woods and couldn’t find her way back. A part of me believed that perhaps she left us. Left me. Now, I’m told she wasn’t human but was instead a Nibelung—whatever that means—and that I’m supposed to finish what she started. Which apparently means cutting myself in the woods so that my blood will either open a portal or close it.”
“Whoa, who told you that?”
“Elspeth. And then Gabriel gave me this.” I find the amulet in my pocket and place it on the table. “It showed me what happened to my mother the night she disappeared. She was trying to open the portal with her blood to release … something. Maybe the army I keep seeing in my dreams?” I watch Shannon’s face twist in recognition.
“This … this thing has nothing to do with your mother, Hayden.” He reaches out as if to touch the amulet but then he moves his hand back in disgust.
“You’ve seen this before.”
He looks up at me. “My mother used to have it. She wore it every day. And whenever she’d put it on, she’d get this weird, remote look on her face. She’d often trash the house, break stuff, harm herself … and me. One day I took it from her jewelry box and threw it in the fireplace. It didn’t burn. The thing is indestructible. When Mom discovered what I did, she went nuts. She told me my father gave it to her, as a symbol of his love and devotion.”
“Oh, Shannon.” Bile rises in my throat. I wore this amulet around my neck. I invited it to show me its message.
“What do you think it really is?”
“Some kind of compulsion vessel. Gabriel probably cooked it up for you, to show you what he wanted you to see.”
And I ate it up.
And then the real implication of the amulet’s true origin slaps me in the face. Mom wasn’t trying to open the portal and unleash the Nibelungs on this world. How could I have ever believed that? I have a horrible sinking feeling as I mentally scream at myself for not trusting Mom, for not doing as she asked. And now the blood vials are lost, and my chance at fixing things is lost with them. And yet I have a fuzzy warmth inside of me: Mom wasn’t some supernatural supervillain. She was … good.
Outside, the wind howls, and I hear hail smashing into the house, apparently from every direction.
“What now?” I ask, knowing full well we’re trapped in the house till Promise decides to calm down and let us out.
“Come on,” Shannon says. “I’ll show you the panic room. We’ll be safe there.”
40
(DON’T?) PANIC
The air pressure’s changing, the temperature dropping. I feel it with my bones. Promise is bracing itself, as if readying to be torn apart.
Thunder explodes again and again, raging over the Manor’s roof.
Together, we navigate the Manor’s stairwell and the corridor to my parents’ old bedroom. Despite my worry for Del—I hope Shannon’s right to be so confident that she’s safe—I can’t help the excitement that’s filling me. Having Shannon by my side changes everything. I know I could do this alone if I had to, but it’s much better to do it with him.
Once in the bedroom, we enter the closet, its tight space bringing us so close I feel tension rolling off Shannon in waves. I’m about to extract the key to Dad’s office from my bag, but Shannon produces one of his own from his back pocket. Makes sense, if Dad was sharing the panic room with his staff.
The concealed door slides inward. We’re in.
Dad’s office is the same as I left it—a surprising isle of stability amidst the chaos. I look around. “So where’s this panic room?”
Straight ahead lies an L-shaped desk holding the computer and piles of Dad’s journals. Behind it, the unpainted brick wall follows the shape of the Manor’s outer edge. To my left, there’s a ceiling-high construction of bookshelves. Above us is the lone skylight. This house must have some hidden dimensions, bending reality to its will to accommodate this panic room.
Shannon nods in the direction of the bookshelves.
“Seriously?” I watch him locate Dad’s magnum opus, his self-published manuscript explaining the true meaning behind the Nibelungen myths: The Space-Time Anomaly and the Nibelung Warriors.
Even now that I know Dad wasn’t a nutcase, I still snort at his research into the Nibelungs. Must be a defense mechanism embedded in my bones and joints. Despite everything I’ve been through, it’s going to take some time getting used to a reality in which Dad was right and Mom wasn’t (completely) mad.
Shannon pulls the book partially out of its place and, hidden mechanisms creaking and moaning, the wall slides aside. The small space of the panic room is lit up by a single lightbulb. I take in the symbols covering the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. I can’t read the runes, but I feel a pinch of familiarity wash over me in that unsettling way déjà vu makes your brain tremble as it digs up a false memory from its secret trove. Like the runes encircling the Manor’s outer walls, the ones in here are all lit up, glowing in a spooky will-o’-the-wisp way.
Shannon steps in after me, letting the door slide back into its frame, cutting us off from the rest of the Manor. On the inside, the door is also lined with bookshelves. Nice touch, Dad. At least we won’t get bored if we have to stay in here for a while.
Complete with a bare mattress, a pillow, and some blankets folded on top, a single bed haunts the panic room’s far corner. And that’s it as far as the room’s furnishings are concerned. I guess Dad didn’t imagine there’d ever be more than one person hiding out in here.
Shannon grabs a book from the shelf and opens it to the middle. He sits on the floor, resting his back against the bed.
I sit on the bed and throw off my shoes. Not sure what to do with myself, I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling. My limbs fill with the familiar restlessness this town seems to provoke in me.
Every time my brain attempts to think about Del, I shut it down. It won’t help and will only leave me biting my nails and worrying endlessly. I know I won’t feel totally at ease until I have her safe by my side.
The panic room’s got no windows, so our only way of knowing when it’s safe to go out is sound. And we get plenty of that in here. The roof shakes from the thunder and whenever it takes a hit from a particularly nasty chunk of ice. I’m wondering whether the rest of the town is safe, whether Dad and Arista and the rest of the Institute staff got out of the base on time.
And my eyes keep returning to Shannon. He’s trying to look busy with his book and almost succeeding. Almost. I know he’s not actually reading from the tense angle of his shoulders, from the way the skin of his neck appears to be blushing.
The longer I stare at him, the more his presence seems to expand, filling the space, dominating all my senses.
“Didn’t know you could read Old Norse,” I comment when the pressure becomes too thick to handle.
He sets the book down quickly and turns around. His eyes appear more pronounced in here, more green than gray, one much darker than the other. My breath catches and I sit up, coming close to the edge of the bed, closer to Shannon, pulled in by his gravity. Where this particular celestial object is concerned, I crossed the event horizon a long, long time ago.
He takes a tentative seat on the side of the bed, facing me. I struggle to conceal my shallow breathi
ng. But instead of kissing me, he says, “I was just thinking about something you said.”
“What’s that?” I lean back, away from him.
“Back at the base, before you tried to Krav Maga your way out of the lab tent. You said you’ve been obsessing over me for years, that you wanted to know me, the grown-up version of me.”
“First of all,” I start slowly, “I didn’t try to Krav Maga my way out. I succeeded. And second … Yes, I’ve thought about you. A lot. I guess you really made an impression on me as a kid.” I make it sound breezy and casual.
In response, Shannon’s tone is teasing, but there’s a note of seriousness underneath when he asks, “And do I measure up to your expectations?”
“What do you think?” I rest my back against the cold wall and hug a pillow to my chest. “Don’t my awkward-girl impressions constitute enough evidence of … my crushing on you hard? Or do you require a verbal confirmation, too?” Right about when I say crushing, blood rushes into my head, sending a wave of dizziness through my body.
But my honesty-provoked embarrassment is short-lived when I see Shannon change expression. Do I imagine it, or does the gleam in his eyes turn hungry, feral? When he speaks, his voice is rough. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, too, Hayden. When you left Promise … it’s like a part of me went with you. I’ve been having these dreams of us as kids playing in these woods and then … we’d be these grown-up versions of us, and I didn’t want to wake up from those dreams.”
“But you don’t know me. I mean, you knew me as a kid, but you don’t know me as I am now. How can you feel this way about someone you barely know?”
He laughs, an incredulous, beautiful sound. “Of course I know you. I’ve always known you. Before you left and now—you’re the same. I mean, you’re totally different now, but you’re still my Hayden.”
My Hayden.
Shannon covers the distance between us in one seamless movement, a gliding bird of prey going in for the kill. He takes my hands into his. His fingers burn my cool skin.
I lean in, but he doesn’t move. He waits for me to cross what’s left of the space between us. Pulled into him like charged iron to a magnet, I move forward, bringing my lips to his mouth.
Our kiss deepens and the remaining distance disappears. I shift my weight and we slide on top of the bed, our arms and legs tangling.
I shudder. In the pit of my stomach an ember grows warm, hot. My mind’s in shambles. I forget everything except Shannon’s mouth moving against mine, parting my lips. Our breaths mingling, I circle my hands around the back of Shannon’s neck, drawing him in. He presses his body against mine and kisses me back, pausing only when we have to come up for air.
The doorbell rings. Unwelcome, its sound comes from far away and forces its way into our endorphin-filled reality. Shannon pulls back and I’m about to protest, but …
“Do you hear it?” he asks, and I know he’s not referring to the doorbell. The shattering noise of hail falling down outside is gone, replaced by a faint whispering of rain.
We sit up, disoriented and wide-eyed, staring at each other in the dim light. The bell rings again. Shannon answers my unvoiced question. “Someone human. No Nibelung would be able to come close enough to this house to ring the doorbell. That doesn’t mean we’re not in danger, though.”
Oh, I know that.
The bell rings once more, demanding our attention. I think I hear pounding on the door, too. Someone’s impatient.
I lace up my Docs. My clothes feel clammy and ill-fitting.
“Not sure it’s wise to answer that door,” Shannon says. “But I guess you’re doing it anyway.”
“That’s right,” I say. “Maybe it’s Del out there.”
He looks at me seriously. “I hope so.”
41
INTO THE NIGHT
In medieval Europe, the aurora borealis was feared. The colorful lights in the sky were thought to herald an approaching war or famine. Meanwhile, some American Indian tribes—Menominee and Inuit among them—believed that the lights were the ascended spirits of great hunters and fishermen.
But now the auroras can be explained by science. The sun’s charged particles enter the Earth’s atmosphere, colliding with its gaseous particles and producing ethereal beauty in the process.
What cannot be explained by science, though, is what the hell auroras are doing shining their light all over Promise, Colorado.
Out of the safety of the panic room, my eyes struggle under the assault of the blinding light streaming through the skylight in Dad’s lab. As my vision adjusts, I see all the colors of the rainbow gleaming through the glass. Enthralled, I watch the hues morph, transforming from neon red to green to yellow to silver blue. Can this really be? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—everything’s possible in Promise, but still …
The doorbell rings again and again, followed by three knocks. Shannon and I dash along the length of the corridor, down the stairwell, and into the living room. From here I can see the outline of the Manor’s main door.
The rumble of raindrops is more audible out here— unforgiving, unapologetic.
Someone’s yelling outside, struggling to be heard against the growing roar of the rainstorm. “Anyone there? Hayden? Shannon? I need help!”
Santiago.
Shit.
With Shannon right behind me, I rush to unlock the door, but a nugget of suspicion makes me keep the door’s small chain in place. When I look outside, I see it’s indeed Santiago. And he looks terrible. Soaking wet, trembling, his short hair slapped down with rain. His lips are nearing the bad kind of blue, and there’s blood on the side of his face, dripping from a shallow cut. Maybe from a tree branch snapping at him during a mad dash through the woods? My heart heavy in anticipation of bad news, I close the door and undo the chain.
I meet Shannon’s eyes and, once he takes a strategic position to my right, I let Santiago in.
Shaking, Santiago collapses at our feet. I kneel down to face him. He just sits there, staring at me, expression blank. I ask, straining to keep my voice calm, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Del, halfway to Denver by now?”
Santiago starts to speak but is shivering so hard, all I hear is his teeth rattling. I leave him with Shannon while I run upstairs to grab a towel and a blanket, along with my first-aid kit. By the time I return, Santiago’s on the couch, Shannon hovering over him.
I sit next to Santiago and attempt to clean his cut, but he keeps shivering and rubbing his eyes. “Del’s … in t-trouble,” Santiago finally squeezes out.
He takes the towel from me and starts to dry his hair, but his hands tremble so bad, he gives up, setting it aside. With effort, he stands from the couch. “You have to come help me. She’s in the woods. Alone.”
“What the hell?” Shannon glares at his friend, disbelief in his voice. “You were supposed to be with her. You were supposed to get her out of here the moment the siren first sounded!”
“I was getting her out of here!” Santiago cries out, slurring the words. A flash of light outside is followed by a ricochet of raindrops against the Manor’s walls, an urgent reminder of what’s going on out there.
Del is outside. Alone.
My breath becomes short and the room dances before my eyes. Dumbfounded by Santiago’s words, Shannon and I stare at him until he finds the strength to talk again. “We were in her car, driving out of this hellhole, making good time to reach Denver, when Del has a freakout and makes me turn around. She was worried about Hayden.… We almost made it back to Promise, but I had to slow down in the woods to go around a fallen tree when there was this weird crackling sound followed by a flash of light. The car swerved off the road. I blacked out for a bit, and when I came to, Del was gone. But I think I saw her go deeper into the forest.”
“Why would she go into the woods?” Shannon demands.
“I don’t know. Maybe she got a concussion when the car crashed? She’s been acting strange ever sin
ce I picked her up this morning. She said she had a huge fight with Hayden. She was so upset, she cried. I don’t know why she ran off on me like that, but we need to go out there and find her before something bad happens.”
Shannon shakes his head. “Out of the question. We shouldn’t go anywhere near these woods tonight.”
“But it’s Del we’re talking about,” I say quietly.
A boom of explosive thunder outside is followed by a flash of light. It illuminates the entire living room like it’s daytime. At least there’s some normalcy to the weather now: lightning and thunder come together. I run to the window and peer into the night. As I watch, another lightning bolt strikes, landing somewhere in the woods.
And then I imagine Del, alone and lost, dodging lightning bolts and freaking out. Or maybe she’s unconscious or about to sleepwalk into Edmunds’ Gorge …
“I have to go out there,” I say. “I brought Del to Promise and if anything happens to her…”
Before Shannon starts to argue, I run into the basement to grab a couple of flashlights. I refuse to rely on the unnatural northern lights outside to illuminate my way through the dense forest. Santiago catches up with me downstairs. In the weak light, I note that his face has regained some of its normal coloring. I hand one of the flashlights to him.
“Thank you for doing this,” he says.
I shake my head. “Don’t thank me. Del’s my friend. I’m not doing anything she wouldn’t do for me. Now let’s go bring her back.”
We return to the living room to find Shannon pacing the length of it like a caged lion. When he speaks, his words sound like a growl. “Are you really going to risk it? Even after everything you’ve learned?”
“Wouldn’t you risk it for me?”
“It’s not the same.”
“How so?”
I let my question linger in the air while I head for the main door.
I hear Shannon’s steps as he follows me and Santiago out of the Manor and into the night.
What the Woods Keep Page 24
