Everlong

by Hailey Edwards

  Gnawing hunger and the pressure of need to use a restroom gave me two options. I could either stay put and hope Figment returned with Clayton—which seemed far-fetched even inside my own mind—or I could crawl out and then make a run for it in the hope I reached town before Jacob could mark me as his. He could be patiently sitting outside waiting to pounce as soon as I left the safety of this burrow. That notion caused the tip of my tongue to flick out and moisten my cracked, dry lips as I swallowed the thought.

  Blood pumped and swelled painfully through my muscles as I inched my way forward to the reality of the world outside. My joints protested the long, enforced stasis as I coaxed my knees to bend under me. Lifting my head slowly above ground level, I watched as pale, shimmering light reflected on the rain-kissed forest floor to illuminate what normally was invisible in the dark. It was just enough of a glimmer to let my sight adjust to cautiously scan the immediate area around the mouth of the burrow.

  The fresh odor of wet leaves and the sharp essence of pine tangled as I inhaled deeply of the world beyond my hidey-hole. Every scent carried a welcome nuance of enticing escape. The hours of smelling damp earth seared a metallic tang on my tongue. Dust had sifted to the back of my throat, drier than a summer wind over Rihos.

  I needed to cough, badly, but fear of discovery smothered the impulse. Instead, I took short, silent breaths. Clean, crisp-cold air shifted the dust deeper into my lungs. The forest floor rolled like a sea of darkness. The steady drizzle of rain had melted away the remnants of snow patches that could have helped me to safely navigate the indistinguishable murky ground lost in the night shadows.

  I was a field mouse, quivering in the knowledge danger lurked out there and debating whether it was worth risking the deadly bite of the owl’s razor claws to scamper out into the open. Here I was safe and hidden. At least for now.

  To venture out could mean death striking on vibrant, crimson wings. It would not be a quick, merciful end, but a slow meting out of punishments until Jacob felt the scales were balanced between Mother and him or I died in the process. Whatever his plans, they did not bode well for me.

  I had to get out and away from here, and far away from Jacob. Raising my head higher, I tried to suppress a deep sense of foreboding. Still it coursed through me as if I were preparing to have Madame Guillotine’s blade slice through my spinal cord, separating life from body as my head rolled loosely away. The macabre image blinded me to the forest momentarily.

  I waited, listening, seeking in the gloom a movement in the depths. When Jacob failed to jump out and yell “gotcha”, confidence drew me to wiggle out on my stomach until I cleared the hole. Pushing to my feet, I took a few halting steps in a direction where I felt the cemetery’s fence line ran, obscured by trees and the night. My legs wobbled as I stumbled forward. Cold numbed the protest of inactive muscles pushed into vigorous action. I made a bush my forest restroom.

  The cold nipped at my bared skin. I quickly got on with it, ready to pull my jeans up fast. It wouldn’t be funny to be literally caught out in the open with my pants down and a randy demon seizing the opportunity to wreak his promised vengeance. That potential threat made me hike them up roughly. My fingers tingled with pins and needles as I fumbled the zipper and studs of my jeans.

  No bogeyman pounced on me. Nothing swooped from the canopy overhead to tear me from the ground screaming into the night. Air rushed jerkily out of me as I smoothed the cough that had waited patiently to erupt and dispel the dusty accumulation. My clammy palms glided on the rough denim of my torn blue jeans. I knew better than to hope Jacob had given up the chase. It would take more than the scarce hours I’d spent underground to evaporate the kind of hatred for me reflected in his frenzied eyes.

  Instinct and memory kicked in to guide me over the uneven terrain. Everything merged and melded together. I couldn’t tell up from down on the rough surface tearing at my frozen feet. Solid ground squelching beneath my soles and the weightlessness of air surrounding me reassured my senses of where and how my unwilling limbs moved.

  A root caught my toe. Tripping, I fell to my knees, jarring my elbows as they took the brunt of my forward fall. Catching my breath, I hauled myself back up. Stumbling on, I came to a sharp stop. Black lines scored my vision. Grimy fingers rubbed my eyes. Were they real? I blinked. The vertical bars were still there, unmoving. Stretching a hand in front of me, frigid steel bruised my knuckles. The cemetery fence. I’d made it. What next? I was too exhausted to think clearly.

  Lacing my fingers through the bars, I pressed my forehead against them. If I strained my eyes, I could just make out the straight ribbon of asphalt below that offered salvation into town. Walking along the road would be the fastest and simplest way to get there. And the most likely route to attract unwanted attention.

  A hazy twinkle rose just above the surface of the road, far enough away it took a few minutes to expand and separate into twin orbs of light. Hitchhiking at this hour from this place held little appeal. But the idea of being found face down in the cemetery garnered even less. Raising my arm, I allowed the shadow of my hand to shield my sight against the glare of vehicle lights on high beam. It was now or never. I had to make my move.

  Rain-slicked steel slipped through my grip as I hauled my weight upwards and over. The spear tips snagged my jacket, throwing me off balance as I dropped into a crouch on the other side. Those headlights appeared higher than I had first thought and closer than I had realized. The driver was seriously speeding.

  Desperately, I skidded down the sharp embankment to land with a sloppy splash in the stream of icy rainwater running through the bottom of the roadside drainage ditch. Clay oozed between my grasping fingers as I sought secure anchorage by using dead weeds to clamber out. Mud sucked at my feet as I pulled free of the water.

  I stumbled onto the blacktop, my arms waving madly like a windmill in the oncoming traffic lane. Light washed over me, blinding me to the vehicle’s speed and location. I didn’t waste precious breath calling out. There was little chance the driver would hear me anyway. I stood a better chance at broadcasting my location to Jacob than soliciting help.

  The lights dipped as the driver braked and screeched to an uncomfortably close stop. I kept waving as I half ran, half tripped across the double lines to reach the stationary vehicle. The whir of a window lowering and the cough of a voice clearing pinpointed the driver’s location. Those blazing headlights burned away any semblance of vision I needed to see who my savior was.

  A feeble voice called through the open window. “Did you lose your way?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.” Relief swamped me, excising my initial hesitation. “My truck broke down and this crazy man chased me into the woods. I need to get into town and call my sister. Is there any way you can give me a lift?”

  “Of course I can.” Sincerity crackled in his assurance.

  “Oh, thank you so much.” My feet moved me towards him. Out of the glare of the headlights my eyes refocused, adjusting to the lack of light. My knees threatened to give way under me as the blue cab of my Ford F150 materialized in front of me.

  “You’re very welcome.” The frail edge left his voice as the driver’s side door swung open. “Princess.” Black combat boots capped by bloused khaki pants impacted the pavement with an ominous thud.

  My tongue turned to sand as I mouthed the one name I dreaded. “Jacob.”

  I didn’t see him move. One minute I stood frozen, a hapless deer caught in his headlights. The next, a freight train constructed of unyielding demon flesh slammed into me, lifting me from the pavement and rolling with me onto the shoulder of the road. Scalding heat burned my knees and elbows where the abrasive asphalt scrubbed flesh from bone.

  We rolled and slid down the clay-slick walls of the drainage ditch in a knot of struggling limbs. His massive body rolled atop mine. I tried to bring my knee up between his thighs, but he had learned his lesson that first time. Catching my ankle, he braced a hand on my leg and twisted. A sickening pop filled
the air. Sharp pinpoints of pain radiated in my knee and shin where bone and tendons no longer connected.

  “Now, now,” Jacob grunted, shoving open my thighs and settling between them. “Play nice and we’ll get along just fine.”

  “Fuck you!” My fingernails plowed angry furrows into his skin. Jacob’s flesh peeled away beneath my fingertips.

  His bellow of rage pounded my eardrums to the point they buzzed with the sound of nothing, leaving me momentarily deaf. Jacob hoisted me up by my shirtfront before flipping me and forcibly smashing me face down into the freezing stream swirling through the bottom of the ditch. Water swamped my face, flushing up my nose as I sucked it into my mouth in a futile attempt to scream.

  His large, coarse fingers clenched my hair in a vicious grip as he shoved my head deeper into the muddy water. Fire raged in my lungs as I desperately fought to keep from inhaling fluid. I coughed and struggled, but only managed to gulp down more rainwater. Without the use of my left leg, and trapped beneath the large male’s body, I had no leverage to launch a counterattack. There was nothing to do but drown.

  I inhaled water. Without oxygen, I was dying, but I was damned if I would go without a fight. Twisting and thrashing, I tried to break Jacob’s deadly grip. Long minutes dragged on, perhaps only mere seconds. The rising pulse of my straining heart tattooed out the number of beats and seconds passing. Time became meaningless.

  My body relaxed, growing limp. A sense of weightlessness tugged at my consciousness to let go. One hand kept my head under while the fingers of Jacob’s other hand crushed my windpipe, breaking the avenue for my last gasp. He kept up the pressure until breath became a distant memory and suffocation a promise I longed to see fulfilled.

  One final violent convulsion and I twisted my head sideways under the water. Through the distortion of the stream I saw Jacob’s pupils flash silver. His head snapped to the side. My ears were plugged with sludge, but I felt the vibrations of speech through the hands holding me under. He couldn’t see my smile at the sweet relief awaiting me on the other side of so much loss.

  At least in death, pain could no longer plague me. Memories would no longer assail me. I would be free. I accepted my fate, embraced where circumstance had led me, and said a silent goodbye to my sister.

  Oh, Emma, how I’ll miss you…

  Then Jacob’s weight was gone. I floated in the water, too weak to raise my head to save myself. Heavy hands clutched my shoulders, lifting me from the murk and mud. My open eyes were unseeing. My heart had stilled. I was leaving and did not need to return. Being shaken like a rag doll failed to raise a response from my limp body.

  Warm lips covered mine as I lay on my back in the cold of the night. Air was forced into me before a fist pounded my chest. The power of that impact jump-started my heart. Blood ripped through my arteries to feed a starving brain. Paralyzed lungs convulsed to thrust a jet of water through clenched teeth and soaked my face, my chin, my hair, my shirt. The flow felt warm against the ice of my skin.

  “Maddie!” Someone called my name. I didn’t know who, or why the voice sounded so familiar.

  My head lolled sharply to the side. I had no strength to lift it.

  Velvety soft, melodic and intimate, the deep tones gently caressed my senses. “Hold on, I’m going to get you out of here.”

  The sweet ache of recognition filled me. “Harper?” I struggled to grasp the root of that sound, to hold something once lost to me in my hands and celebrate it being found.

  The voice dipped to a disappointed sigh. “No, I’m Clayton Delaney.”

  Awareness flared in the farthest corner of my mind. So this was my generous benefactor come to save me. In the ditch there was no light to show me his face. Not that it would have helped much.

  I had no impression of wings, but in this realm, most Evanti maintained their human glamour and their privacy. What I did sense was power. Raw and very male. Energy vibrated in the air between us.

  “Oh.” More slime from my lungs choked me as the silt clogged the back of my throat. I had begun to think Clayton Delaney was a pseudonym for Dana Evans since I’d never seen or spoken to him but she was always fresh from a meeting with the mysterious colony leader. But he felt real enough to me now.

  His wet shirt hugged a hard body. My hands rested on his waist, his on my shoulders. His heat radiated through the damp fabric into my palms, heating me to my core. “Jacob—”

  “Is being dealt with in accordance with the laws of the colony.” Clayton’s thumbs worked over my shoulder so lightly I wondered if he even realized what he was doing. The touch was affectionate, soothing, and I wanted to blame the connection I felt on his voice, but couldn’t. There was much more to this male than anyone had let on. Of that I was certain.

  “Your sister shouldn’t have allowed you to come alone today.” His soft touch hardened. “She nearly cost you your life.”

  I bristled, hackles lifting as I rose to her defense. Although I’d harbored similar thoughts myself, this was between Emma and I to resolve. He had no stake in the matter.

  “Emma was allowing me time to grieve.”

  “Time you didn’t have.” His teeth snapped closed. His sweet breath filled my water-logged lungs. “I’m going to lift you. Just hold on to me.”

  I obeyed as Clayton scooped an arm beneath the bend of my knees. The broken leg bent at an odd angle. “What did he do to you?” He brushed a hand down my thigh, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. His fingers whispered over broken bone and shredded flesh. “He will pay for this, deshiel.”

  I frowned at his use of the unexpected endearment until his other arm wrapped around my back, resting just below my shoulder blades. His fingers hesitated as they smoothed over the bumps he found there. He swore under his breath, jerking his hand farther down my back before lifting me up.

  Heat flushed my cheeks. Harper had overlooked my physical imperfections. It hurt that this near-stranger couldn’t. Shame cut away the worst of my disorientation. Clayton’s disgust with my deformity pricked my pride for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely.

  He cradled me against his chest, tucking his chin over the crown of my head. I felt the ripple of his muscles as they tensed, then the rush of air—a tantalizing taste of flight—as he used his wings, suddenly in evidence, to lift us from the gutter and back onto the level pavement.

  Clayton carried me around to the passenger side of my truck, shifting me gently until he managed to open the door and settle me on the bench seat. The interior light cast a soft glow around me, revealing filthy jeans and soggy shoes. And blood, lots of blood. It couldn’t all be mine, could it?

  I flinched when I caught the gleam of metal reflecting in Clayton’s hand. His face was cast in shadow, and he seemed content to stay there. Across his palm, he revealed a small pocketknife. “I need to cut the fabric away from the wound so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

  With one clean swipe, he cleaved the denim of my jeans leg in two, revealing the worst of the already-healing wounds. “The bone pierced through your skin.” He bent down to examine the break. His head lowered, exposing slicked-back ebony hair curling just below his ears. No wonder he blended so well into the night. The color was natural, although the cut might not be. His glamour was a low hum moving over my skin everywhere his fingers touched.

  Clayton’s silence drew my attention. I coughed to clear my sore throat and tried to assure him. “I’ll be fine, really.”

  “You’re hardly bleeding.” He sounded confused by the lack of flowing blood, but I didn’t feel like explaining my whacked-out physiology just then. He cupped my ankle in hand and helped me pivot until my knees faced forward and my back flexed comfortably into the seat. “Good girl. Just sit tight and I’ll get you home.”

  Clayton leaned over me, putting us chest to chest as he fastened my seat belt. He glanced up and I saw his face fully for the first time. My tortured heart rate skyrocketed. The air seemed to thin until the lack of oxygen made my head swim. I c
ouldn’t stop the accusation from rolling off my tongue.

  “You look just like him.”

  The unspoken name hung in the air. Clayton’s shuttered expression told me he knew exactly who I meant.

  “I should.” He pulled back, holding the door wedged open. His face remerged with the shadows. “Harper was my brother.”

  My jaw dropped as the door slammed shut on the dozens of questions scalding the tip of my tongue. I needed to ask, to seek reassurance he spoke the truth. He prowled around the front of my truck to speak with two males in full glamour I hadn’t noticed. Through the wall of bodies, I saw Jacob held limply between them. Clayton patted the nearest male on the shoulder, hooked his thumb towards me and then pointed down the road behind me.

  He glanced up and our eyes met through the windshield. His were such a curious mix of blue gray. I found myself wishing I could look beneath to discover if the black of his eyes was as conflicted as the illusion he cast over them. He continued talking to the others while keeping his gaze locked to mine. Waving them off, he started towards the door left open by Jacob’s hasty exit.

  The door closed and sealed us in an intimate bubble. I couldn’t let the chance pass. I had to ask. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” For five years I had lived a stone’s throw away from someone of Harper’s bloodline. Someone I would have welcomed as family during those bleakest times of my life, someone who apparently didn’t feel the same way about me.

  Clayton ran a hand through his hair, pushing the damp tangle from his eyes. “Dana spoke with your sister after Harper failed to return home.” He carefully skirted the issue of death. “My brother resembled me, as you’ve noticed. They decided I should stay away and allow you to mourn without the visual reminder that your lover hadn’t returned.”