“What?” I asked. “Where can we go?”
“I’ll find somewhere,” he said. “But this is no good. It’s the first place they’d look. I’m surprised you even stopped here to begin with.”
“You were hurt,” I said fiercely. “I didn’t want to move you and risk hurting you even more.”
“So you risked yourself?” he asked. “And your sister?”
“I…” My throat pinched in. How had that happened? How had I overlooked that?
Before I could come up with a reason, Park drifted back into the room, his face white and stiff. He must have heard the news.
“We have to regroup,” I said to him. “Your mother is on the warpath. We—”
“I was wrong,” he said, his eyes staring off into the middle distance. “We were all wrong.”
“Wrong about what?” I asked.
“My contacts in the center—that was one of them on the phone.” Park clenched his teeth together, and then looked at me. “He got the intel I was looking for. I thought Mother needed Gemma because she couldn’t use any other bodies, but I was wrong.”
“You mean she can use someone else?” I asked, a sliver of hope breaking in. “You mean she doesn’t need Gemma?”
“No, she doesn’t,” he answered flatly. “The reason Mother isn’t able to use just any vessel is because it turns out that only indigenous magic will allow her presence to stick inside of a person.”
“Indigenous?” I asked, my nose scrunching. “You mean like a native, like the people who lived on this land before the sector was formed? Aren’t they all dead?’
“Almost,” Park said. “They’re definitely endangered, but, be that as it may, it turns out she has to have someone with native blood.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Gemma doesn’t have native blood.”
“No,” Park answered. He leaned back against the wall beside the door and shook his head. “But you do.”
Chapter 20
Rage.
That was what I felt. Maybe it was because I was past all the rest of it. I was through with being hurt, confused, and trying to make sense out of a senseless situation.
I bit my lip, trying to come to terms with the fact that the question I was about to ask was even coming out of my mouth. This just couldn’t be real.
“Are you saying she was never after Gemma?” I asked finally. “This…this can’t be about me.”
And yet, even as I said those words, I knew it very well could be about me. That, in retrospect, it made so much more sense than anything else I’d believed.
All this time, I’d been trying to protect my sister, and she’d just been bait. I was the subject of Brula’s seemingly never-ending manhunt. And it was because I had native blood, which might have been the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.
What the hell was native blood anyway? I had my blood, the blood of my mother and father. I had sector-approved blood.
Natives—the people who lived on this island before the sector took it over—were savages. They killed each other without cause or provocation. Those had been the tales of terror parents told to keep their kids in line.
And, regardless, the natives had very likely died out ages ago.
The regent didn’t allow them within the walls of the circle, which meant that most of them had camped out in the thick woods that sometimes ran across the less-populated sections of the Dustlands.
But even those tribes hadn’t been seen or heard from in generations.
In fact, it was pretty common knowledge that the natives had likely tried to leave the sector and had been consumed by ravagers in the process. And even if they had somehow survived, why would they consider coming back to a place where they were so thoroughly unwanted?
Whichever was true, it definitively squashed the idea of me having native blood. Mother wasn’t a native. Neither was Father. Gemma had the same blood as I did. No matter which way you looked at it, that was the part that didn’t make sense.
I could accept that, given my unusual magical strength, I was a better target than my sister was. But the rest of it? No. If my blood was native, then so was hers.
“Well?” Henrick asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think of that fantastical tale?”
I pursed my lips and crossed my arms. “I’m just glad to get some good news for once.”
“Good news?” Henrick and Park said in unison. For once, they were on the same page about something.
“Yes,” I said, sinking back against the wall. “Brula’s after me—not my sister. I’ll take it.”
Let that horrible woman come for me with all the magic fireballs she wanted. Let her find me and burn me from the inside out. So long as Gemma was unhurt, part of me would be too.
“I get you’re happy your sister isn’t a direct target, but neither of you are safe right now, and giving up isn’t going to protect her.”
Park nodded as Henrick spoke. It seemed now they had joined together for the common cause of getting the fight back into me. But they didn’t need to. I hadn’t lost my fight. I wasn’t about to let myself be turned into some puppet of a vessel to be used and thrown away by who I knew had to be one of the worst people to ever live.
Besides, Henrick was right. Brula needed to be stopped, and my body wasn’t going to be the thing that accommodated her continued reign of terror.
I’d throw myself off the highest tower in the circle before I let that happen.
“You two worry too much,” I said. I headed over to the counter and started to fill my pack with supplies. “Now, I believe we’re supposed to get going.”
Even before we got the word I was the one Brula was after, we knew we couldn’t stay. My safe house with Henrick had been turned into a warzone. It was a miracle Brula’s forces hadn’t made it there already.
We had to make haste. With the combustive news Park had just lain at my feet like one of the old landmines I used to read about in my Histories of Wars and Other Obsolete Conflicts class, I knew there was only one place to go.
I needed to get back home. I needed to show Park that I was me—that I wasn’t some native’s child. I was my parents’ child. A regular person. A witch, sure. But a normal one.
If I was going to find proof that I wasn’t who they thought I was, and, with it, hopefully get Brula to call off her dogs, then home was the place it was going to happen.
Only being back here wasn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be.
Sure, I knew the fire had destroyed my old house. Gemma’s stories were plenty graphic enough to make that point.
But those stories hadn’t prepared me for what I saw now.
The rubble, the scorch marks, the utter destruction…all of those things used to be love. They used to be the places where my sister and I played, where my family ate meals and talked about the harvest.
My childhood had been in those bricks, in those rooms. But now it was all burned up, all gone away.
And for what? Because some prolonged, self-righteous regent who didn’t know when it was her time to die was wrong about who I was.
It all seemed like such a waste, and it brought tears to my eyes.
“She’s not ready,” Park whispered.
“That’s fine.” Henrick stood to the other side of me, but they both seemed a million miles away. “She doesn’t have to be. Not yet.”
“We can’t stay here for long,” Park said, looking from me to Henrick and back again. “Mother will send people here. It’s a natural progression. We have to keep moving. We have to—”
Henrick’s next words came through a near-locked jaw. “This is her entire damned life, you pampered piece of trash.”
“Really?” Park asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I figured it was going to be easy.” He took a deep breath. “Of course I know this is hard. I don’t even see how the woman is still standing after this all. But the fact that it’s hard doesn’t change anything. Strength wouldn’t mean anything if
it was easy.”
“You hear that in one of your tea sessions?” Henrick asked, stepping around me so that he stood like a barrier between Park and me.
“Enough,” I said, blinking back the tears. “I’m fine. I’m ready.”
“Look at me,” Henrick said, grabbing my hand. “You don’t have to be. It’s all right. Just say the word, and we’ll set up camp and wait until you feel up to it.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head but leaving my hand safely in his. “Park is right. Brula is coming for us, and unless I can get her proof that she’s wrong about me, then none of us are safe.” I swallowed hard. “I have to go in there.”
“I’m coming with you,” Gemma said from behind me. She had been so quiet since we’d gotten here that I had almost forgotten she was even there.
And what must she have been going through? To come back here, to the scene of her worst nightmare, to see the place where her life had changed forever…this must have been hard on her.
I couldn’t put her through even more.
“No,” I answered. “I’m fine. I just—I need to go in there by myself. I need to say goodbye if that makes any sense. I’ll be fine, I swear.”
Gemma blinked her big doe eyes at me. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But if you need me—”
I nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
I tried to pull my hand away from Henrick’s, but he held it tightly for another second. “We’ll be right out here, watching,” he said. “Making sure everything is okay. You keep your eyes and ears open in there. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, staring up at him. The concern in his eyes was something new, something I didn’t necessarily expect to see.
But there it was nonetheless, and I didn’t mind it one bit.
Marching into the house, I felt my entire body come out from under me. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore, couldn’t feel my heart beating. I couldn’t even feel my mind as the mound of rubble got nearer and nearer.
Oddly, I could still smell the scents of home coming from the mess. The smell of Mother’s bread as it cooled on the window. The aroma of the laundry on the line. The stench of fresh-cut grass on the hot summer days when Father would take out the mower.
It must have been my mind playing tricks on me. Still, I never wanted to stop smelling these things. I never wanted to forget what it felt like to be here, to know them, to be a part of my family.
And then, just like that, they were all gone—the smells, the memories—they were replaced by char, ash, and the horrible present. Everything had been taken from me, and here I was, sifting through the corpse of my old life, hoping to find a means of survival in the bones.
What had I done to deserve this?
I didn’t start crying until I was safely out of view of the others. I didn’t want them to see me break down. I was supposed to be stronger than that. I was supposed to be tough.
I was the Dustlands girl, the one who had made something of herself. The witch among the mortals. How would they feel to know I was a mortal, too, when it came down to it? That I was just as fragile as all the rest?
A few minutes passed—just enough that I knew I couldn’t waste any more time. I needed to find proof of my parentage…but how was I even supposed to do that?
The only thing that made any sense was to go back to my room.
That was me. That was the heart of who I was.
However, when I walked into what used to be my room, my heart sank even more.
The entire thing had been destroyed, and not just by fire. Someone had thrown my things all over the room. A hole the size and shape of a human head was in the wall, and my bed had been tossed on its side.
Someone had gotten hurt here. Maybe this was where one of them died.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I crumpled against my bed, clutching the backside of it and hoping to find some sense of myself, some sense of the comfort that this room used to give me.
But even the bed was destroyed.
There was a hole in the mattress, as though someone had dug into it.
And, as I looked at that hole, I saw something else. A box. A strangely untouched box.
Sniffling, I pulled it out.
It was Mother’s makeup box—the one she’d only used on special occasions. Why was it in my room, let alone stuffed into a hole in my mattress?
I opened it, hoping to find even a hint of her, but instead of her makeup or the pictures of us I had once seen in this box, now there was only an old, yellowed sliver of paper.
I pulled it open.
It was a letter…in Mother’s handwriting.
Razz,
I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would come to this. I never knew my sins would be visited on anyone I loved, let alone my children.
I’m writing this because I don’t think I’ll survive the night. And, if that’s the case, I think there should be something here that reveals the truth. Some way for you to find out what you will need to know once I’m gone. I risk writing this, hoping you will find it before they find you, but I cannot die without you knowing.
I love you, my darling. Your father loves you.
Don’t let what I’m about to say lead you to believe that isn’t the case.
I was young when you were born, too young, too foolish. And there was a man—a beautiful man. He was before your father…before the man you came to know as your father.
My heart lurched, but I pressed on.
He was a glorious soul—but he was a native. Even when you were born, I could see him in you. But you know the laws, Razz. I could never be with that man, and regardless of what I had done, I did grow to love your father.
But that doesn’t matter now.
She’s coming for you.
The native man told me the regent needed their blood—that only that would allow her to live. He told me this to protect you, because this day might come. That’s why I never told you the truth. I didn’t tell anyone the truth. No one could find out you had native blood.
But if you’re reading this, then they did. Then they already know, and if they know, you cannot fight back if you are left in the dark.
You need to find your birth father now. He’s the only one who can help you.
Below are the coordinates he gave me, should I ever need to find him.
Please be safe.
Please be well.
I love you, my dear.
Your mother.
My entire world shattered. I couldn’t believe it.
Brula was right.
Chapter 21
“We have to get over there,” Park said, looking at my mother’s letter one more time and pacing around the smoldering ruins of my childhood home.
It seemed almost wrong to let him look at it, to let anyone look at it. These words were my mother’s darkest secret. They were the contents of her deepest shame. She had laid them out bare to me as her last act, only when there was absolutely no other option at her disposal.
And here I was, passing them around.
But what could I do? This truth, however scandalous, affected all of us now. Who I was—who my father was—was important to our lives. It was the very reason this was happening. I couldn’t expect them to risk their lives trying to keep my sister and me safe without being completely honest with them. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right. And, regardless of the aching guilt I was feeling right now, it wouldn’t be what Mother wanted.
Still, my hands were shaking as I tried to steady myself and listen to what was going on around me. I had never dealt with something like this before, with having my entire life changed up retroactively as if I were living in one of those serials Mother used to watch in the evenings.
Still, even with my inexperience, I knew there was no way I was handling this well. There had to be people in the sector who could have took this information in stride, who could have heard the truth, processed it, and still done what needed to be done.
As I leaned against a near
by tree, still lightheaded and more than a little nauseous, it was as clear to me as it had ever been that I was not one of those people.
Not by a long shot.
“Get over where, Park?” Henrick asked. His eyes narrowed with accusation. Even after all of this, he clearly still didn’t trust the prince.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Park asked, arching one of his finely shaped eyebrows. “There are coordinates here that lead us into that forest.” He pointed to a tree line in the distance. “Judging by the numbers and what I know of what has and has not been civilized within the sector, it’s farther than I’d care to go. But we have to do it.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Henrick said. Though he was talking to Park, he had his eyes trained on me. “We absolutely don’t have to do anything.”
“Are you defective?” Park asked, looking Henrick up and down. “Do you not understand the trouble we’re in?”
He walked toward me, wrapped his hand around my bicep, and started to guide me away from Prince Park. “Come on. We should go.”
My sister looked after us with wide eyes, back to Prince Park, and then hurried after us. Park caught up, stepping into Henrick’s path and pushing him back by the shoulder.
“I understand this is difficult, and I imagine that your mind is very likely running to a lot of different places that it has no business being in.” Park’s fingers curled around Henrick’s shoulder, holding him firmly in place. “But my mother is ruthless. She will hollow you out. She will take the essence of who you are and render it down to nothing. She’ll boil you away, and you’ll just be gone.” He clenched his teeth, and then ticked his head toward me. “And you shouldn’t be feeding her fairy tales.”
Henrick pulled himself back, shaking loose of Park’s grasp. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t think I know what this is?” Park asked, waving his hand between us. “You want to try to make her feel better, to tell her that this will all be okay, that you can protect her.” He shook his royal head. “She shouldn’t feel better. She should be terrified. Maybe it won’t all be okay. Even if we do everything right, even if we run as far and as fast as we can, there’s still a pretty good chance that my mother will find us. And, Henrick—whether you want to believe it or not—you can’t save her.” Park looked back at me again. “No one can save anyone. We have to save ourselves.”
Under: an Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 5 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 15
