Premonition

by Rachael Krotec

  Lilah peeks one eye open. The air is warm and humid. Oaks and pines make the forest. Although she isn’t sure of their exact location, Lilah knows with certainty they’ve entered the southern Lux territory. Her senses peak and her gut clenches. This is what it feels like to cross the line. She wanders a step, then two, raising her arms so that her palms are outstretched, and pushes gently, the pressure like an itch to sneeze. The boundary spell in front of her pushes back.

  “Stop!” Caleb places a hand on her forearm. “Are you trying to have everyone know we’re here?” Turning his shoulders, he whispers under his breath and pulls Lilah under the invisible veil of the boundary spell.

  The hermit makes a grabbing motion to Caleb. Caleb sighs, digs through his backpack, and hands the hermit a wad of money.

  “See you on the other side!” The hermit sends them off with a wave, then moves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The vanishing sunlight filters through the oaks, creating spectacles of shadows on the dried grass. Birds coo, caw, and laugh their songs, a symphony of nature’s finest lyrists. “Close your mouth, before a bug lands on your tongue,” Caleb says with a toothy grin.

  Lilah sticks out her tongue and rubs her belly. “Mm.”

  He chuckles, the sound grumbling deep in his chest.

  She watches him, trying to remember if she’s ever heard him laugh before. Lilah hasn’t, so she listens with great care, letting the sound wash through her body.

  “Follow me,” Caleb says, walking off under the cover of the giant oaks.

  Lilah watches how he places his feet, just so. That he misses the shadows and only steps in the patches of light. She watches how every few steps, he turns his head in either direction looking, searching deep into the wood. As she follows, a soft smile unconsciously comes to her lips. He’s not bad. She chastises herself for relying on him so much, but is thankful—though in grave denial about it—not to be alone.

  She shrugs off her cloak and coat as sweat drips down the raw, angry whip-lashed skin of her back and shadows him deeper into the oak forest. Feeling unusually outspoken, she says, “They taught us that this is what we are, that we are built like weapons, to be used on command. They prepare us for death, even rejoice in the honor of it. But they didn’t prepare us to kill. They didn’t prepare us for how it would feel,” she rambles, the words coming out in a stream as a bead of sweat draws down her forehead and into her brow. “I didn’t know—I don’t know. What is this feeling?”

  “Remorse?” Caleb slows so that he walks alongside her.

  The forest opens up around them, and she feels the full force of the sun on her face for the first time in days. She stops, closes her eyes, and tilts her head up. “Does remorse feel like a kind of small death?” Peeking an eye in his direction, she sees a curious expression come over his face.

  “Yeah, that’s one way of describing it.”

  “What?”

  He smiles. “Nothing.”

  “Oh, no. Now you have to tell me,” she says, crossing her arms.

  “It’s just. Here you are, talking about your feelings, and I guess, it’s just surprising to me,” he says.

  “Because I’m a Nox, right? I’m still human, though, and Verna, the woman who . . .” her voice trails off. She focuses on one oak in particular with gnarly branches that fall to the forest ground. “She was a Lux.” She can’t explain it, why she bothers to explain herself at all, but for the fact that she feels as though he’s actually listening, and beyond that, that he might actually understand.

  “My parents were killed by Alessandra in the war,” he says. “Our neighbors, my parents’ friends, even Dalia, ran around me saying it would get better, but I can’t say that the pain ever goes away, it just . . . changes. It becomes a scar, instead of a gaping wound.”

  “How dare she do that to you and then demand payment for letting you live!” Lilah growls. Caleb grimaces, and the expression seems to age him years simultaneously. “I’m going to make her pay.”

  His grimace turns to horror. “What?”

  “I’m going to kill Alessandra.”

  “You can’t!” He raises his hands. “I mean,” he glances away, “it’s too dangerous.”

  “She killed the only person who—” She catches herself, then turns to hide her tears.

  “You love Verna,” he says, as if it isn’t unnatural at all. “You might be a Nox, but you’ve a beating heart in your chest. You’re grieving, and the sooner you let yourself grieve, the faster you let yourself heal. She cared for you as much as you care for her, I’m sure.”

  Lilah’s jaw tightens. I won’t cry in front of him. I’m not—

  “Remorse is normal, you know. Though by the show of your arms, I doubt you really care about the morals of being a Nox.”

  “I still see right and wrong, even if my opinion is ultimately different than yours. As for my brands,” she glances down at her exposed arms, “tenebrae by nature is meant to be a permanent reminder of the wrongdoing, under Nox morality. Even so, I can’t tell you what half of these are for.” Lilah laughs lightly.

  He shakes his head. “So then why do they do it?”

  “Because they can,” she says, her voice turning cold. “It’s an abuse of power—nothing else.”

  “Do you dream when you sleep?” she says, the question skipping over her tongue before she has any mind to stop it.

  Caleb glances over his shoulder at her, his eyebrow raised, but doesn’t stop walking. “Of course.”

  Lilah watches her steps as they journey into a thicker patch of forest. “When I was a little girl, I used to dream about a place like this, except there was a house with a garden. I would wake up crying with the most poignant feeling of nostalgia for a place I’d never been to.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t had that dream in years—any dream, actually.” She fiddles with the clothing she holds in her arms. “Sometimes, I wonder if this is the dream, and I’m stuck in that house, trying to wake myself up.” She glances at him.

  “That’s terrifying.” Caleb’s eyebrows lift and he drops his eyes. “But this is not a dream. You’re really here.”

  Is it relief that empties into Lilah’s core, or is it something sinister? She closes her eyes, breathes in the musky smell of wood, and pushes the feeling down, down into the increasing mass of chaos in that secret place. When she opens her eyes, Caleb’s unease is written in his expression, but quickly he smiles.

  Lilah gestures for him to continue leading the way. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better. I would actually prefer if you didn’t.” I don’t deserve it anyway.

  They remain in silence for a few minutes before Caleb stops and turns back to Lilah. “If we work together, we can overcome her,” he annunciates each word.

  Lilah smiles at his confidence, his optimism. We? How is it he can hold hope for her when she has nearly lost it all for herself? “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  “Well . . .” His features shift as he ponders the question.

  She puts her hands on her hips. “The only way to overcome her is to kill her.”

  His eyes widen. “Why is murder the inevitable choice?”

  “Alessandra isn’t going to stop until one of us is dead, and I don’t plan on dying any time soon.”

  “Revenge isn’t your only option.”

  “Isn’t it? What else is there?”

  “Mercy.”

  “Don’t make me sick,” she scoffs, dropping her arms. “You think I’m capable of that after what she’s done to me?”

  “You’ve done it before.”

  “When?” She crosses her arms.

  “With me,” he mumbles.

  She shakes her head. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Then who are you?” he says.

  Lilah shifts her shoulders away from him, a blush creeping across her cheeks. She remembers the sign Verna gave her about him. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. But what am I to make of this whole situation?
” The healing, the helping, the lying, the scheming. It is all too much.

  Lilah sits and sinks her face in her hands. Tilting forward, she growls as the stretch rips open her back. Blood trickles from one of the lash wounds. “I’m overwhelmed, Caleb.” She sits up, shocked by the words she let slip from her mouth. Her breathing turns ragged. She listens, hears his patient heart, then the crunch of the fallen leaves.

  He gently pulls her hands down. She stares up into his bright eyes and swallows. “You’re handling this incredibly well, considering. You’d be insane not to be having a difficult time. And I wish it was over, but it isn’t.” He wipes a tear from her cheek, then stands.

  She inhales sharply. If she had said this to a Nox, they would have given her a perplexed look, laughed, or left. Her body slowly relaxes and sinks into the soft ground. A sense of relief wells in her core from his kind words even though she hardly knows him. But after another breath, she hardens again, her rational mind overtaking her subtle emotional shift. Standing, Lilah takes a deep breath, resolving not to let her guard down.

  Turning his back, he continues. “I was wrong. Even if I didn’t know what she was going to do, I knew it wouldn’t be good. If I had intervened at the Ludi, I could have stopped this all from happening. Verna would still—”

  “What good does it do to say something like that?” Lilah scowls.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I’ve dishonored myself.”

  Lilah laughs sharply. “Honor, dishonor. You think I care about any of that?”

  He swallows. “No. I guess not.”

  Heaving herself to her feet, she wipes off the leaves and dirt. “Then stop letting all those petty things get in the way this time or,” she smirks, “I’ll have to humiliate you again, like the Ludi.”

  “We tied, you know.”

  “Did we?” Lilah starts off down the trail, smiling crookedly.

  After walking in relative silence for another mile or so, Caleb stops in front of a mound covered in grass and branches. “We’re here.”

  Lilah tilts her head and squints. In the center of the mound, she sees what might be a door. “This is it?”

  Caleb nods. He walks up to the wooden door and knocks, then places his ear against its surface. After a breath, he motions for Lilah to follow as he opens the earthen door, placing them into a cramped room. Grassy green walls and brown furniture fill the space. Lilah looks to her left where Caleb stands and waits for him to make a move.

  “What is your purpose here?” calls a callous voice.

  “We come to hear your prophecy,” Caleb says.

  “Bring the woman before me,” the voice drifts from down the hall.

  Lilah nods to Caleb, and she starts down the hallway. The walls of the hall are dug out from the dirt, and Lilah feels the ground beneath her descending. Like an animal burrow. It smells strange, not like the earth as it should. The tunnel turns and ends at a flap of white fabric. Lilah pulls it aside to be met by the back of a woman.

  Shrouded in a brown cloak, Lilah can only tell that she is short in stature and has a petite figure. When the woman turns, the tassels of her cloak hood hide her face. Silver hair peeks from the sides of the cowl. Cassandra of the Lockwood wears a thin, ragged silver dress.

  A chill runs up her spine, and Lilah steps back almost involuntarily.

  “Ah, Delilah Aurelia Hilt Eadwig,” the woman says.

  Lilah’s body goes rigid, and she immediately feels herself stepping into a more balanced stance. How does she . . .? The room shrinks, and her senses heighten. On her next inhale, Lilah smells the threadbare fabric of the seer’s dress and identifies the unusual smell of the home as rot. As if the whole home sinks into the earth and with it, the seer.

  The seer brings both hands in front of her, black veins contrast sharply with the pale skin. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lilah. I feel as if I’m looking at Alessandra Hilt herself. What an honor it is to have her daughter in my own home.” Lilah grits her teeth. The seer turns to appraise Caleb and her cowl shudders. “And who are you?”

  “Caleb Addison,” he says.

  “Hmph. You’ve come to hear the prophecy, yes?”

  Lilah nods, relaxing her stance. “My mother—”

  “—seeks to kill you, yes, I know,” the seer interjects, her cowl twitching. “You wish to hear the prophecy?”

  “Yes,” Lilah answers, “I need to hear it for myself.”

  The seer keeps her shadow gaze on Lilah. “Hmph. It is a shame what they have done to you. Lying year after year.” Lilah narrows her eyes. The seer chuckles, and the sound shakes her ragged silver dress. “Sometimes knowledge is the death of us. Simply knowing is enough to cause a person to step on the very stones they had wanted to avoid. You cannot avoid destiny. No matter which choice you make, you end up where you never wanted to go, always. But I will tell you, if that is what you wish.”

  Lilah gestures impatiently with her hand.

  She comes and sits on the floor in front of Lilah, then takes out what looks like a white piece of chalk from the folds of her cloak and starts to draw on the floor. The air warms. “What I see is your blood-covered hands holding a body on your lap, while the world burns around you. What I hear is thunderous shaking underfoot, which echoes even underground. What I smell is the iron of blood and bone . . . the end, the beginning. A terrifying, new world.”

  Lilah’s torso turns scalding hot.

  Cassandra reaches out and grabs Lilah’s hands, her cowl falling from her face and revealing an impossibly old visage, the skin pale with black veins. Her eyes spin wildly and turn white. Her grip tightens, and she pulls Lilah forward.

  “Stop!” Lilah yanks her hands away from Cassandra’s grasp. “Stop!” A surge of energy rushes from her torso, up her spine, and down through her arms and hands. The pulse causes a spark to bloom in her palms, a tiny violent flower.

  Slowly, the seer’s eyes clear, and she shakes her head. Wide-eyed and breathless, Lilah looks at her own hands. Ashes lay in the creases of her palms. The seer looks up, straight into Lilah’s eyes. “You will finish Alessandra’s work, Lilah. It will come to pass.”

  Lilah stands abruptly and spits on the ground, then hastens toward the door as Cassandra yells behind her, “I know who you are, Lilah! And so do you!”

  As they walk in the shadows of the tall trees, Lilah sighs. The trip to the seer leaves her with a terrible feeling of dread. She exhales loudly and squeezes her hands within themselves, bringing them to her chest. If a seer herself proclaims that a prophecy can’t be changed . . .

  Her thoughts drift to Verna and tears blur her vision, but she slaps her cheek and they disappear. If Verna were here, she would know what to do. “Finish Alessandra’s work,” Lilah muses to herself.

  Caleb jumps in front of her and says, “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. It’s none of your concern.”

  Caleb grimaces, his cerulean and gold eyes shining. “It is my concern, we’re bound.”

  How could I forget that? But he’s not my friend—and even friends betray you. Lilah stills as she looks Caleb in his ever-innocent eyes. “You have faith like a child,” she whispers.

  His eyes widen, and Lilah thinks perhaps she’s offended him, but then he shrugs. “I’m okay with that.”

  A tree casts an oblong shadow across them. Caleb stands and inhales slowly, still looking down at Lilah. His face slowly changes from puzzled to alarmed.

  Lilah hears the downward cascade of the surrounding forest as it sinks into an unnatural silence. The wind dies so that the boughs of the trees still. The grass loses its elasticity and warms beneath Lilah’s feet, which she can sense through the thick rubber soles of her boots. Her thoughts turn to the signa and reflexively her hand goes to her torso. It’s happening again. “Caleb—” She reaches out to him, but it is too late. She falls into darkness.

  Lilah moans and grips her torso reflexively. When she opens her eyes, she thinks it’s the night sky, bu
t on her second blink, the edges focus, and she realizes her mistake. Caleb stares down at her with furrowed eyebrows. He sighs. “Thank goodness.” He sits back on his heels, giving her space to breathe. The ends of his black hair curl with sweat. Even in winter, the humidity and heat are unforgiving. She’s suddenly grateful to have lived in the north all her life. Her body relaxes. The light plays a flower pattern across her eyes, and momentarily, the yellow rays brace themselves against the tree leaves, blinding her and forcing her to squint up at Caleb. Lilah sits up slowly.

  “Lilah?” Caleb’s voice holds an anxious note, causing Lilah to quickly glance away.

  She brushes the leaves from her side. She doesn’t answer his implied question. She doesn’t know if she’s all right and doesn’t want to lie to him. The growing pit of unmentionables rears in her gut; she flinches. She hears a small voice ask, Is this how the madness begins?

  “You had a seizure,” Caleb says, like he’s reporting to an instructor about her medical condition.

  Lilah shrugs. Hadn’t Deirdre told her ascending was going to get worse?

  Caleb rubs the back of his neck. “We need to get away from here.”

  “I know,” she says, her voice muffled by the hands, shielding her face.

  She sits on the ground, her knees pulled into her chest. He wonders why she tries so valiantly to hide her pain when he feels it keenly, regardless. The bind. She stands and peers at him, a pleading look across her face. Caleb heard it in her voice just once before, when they were traveling the last bit to Cassandra’s hovel. Understand me, it murmurs.

  Her voice sinks to a whisper, “You really think I can change my destiny?”

  “You have to try,” he says, stepping tentatively toward her.