Dark and Twisted

by Heidi Acosta

  I call to him, terrified that he is not going to make it. I need to go back to help him, but Richard is moving much too fast for me to get off. Somehow, amidst the pack, Jaxson sends another arrow flying, burying it deep in another wolf that is flanking us, now leaving three of them. They easily keep up the pace with us. Richard thrashes his tail, stabbing one with the barbed end, and it lets out a yelp as it collapses to the ground.

  We dart under the skeleton trees, and a branch slashes me across the face. My cheek feels like it is on fire as crimson liquid splatters the back of his white coat. The smell of blood seems to make the wolves mad, and a frenzy of howls fills the air as more close in on us.

  One leap, landing on his backside, and the claws dig deep into Richard’s flesh. The lion lets out a roar and stumbles. I kick at the wolf’s head, nearly missing its mouth as it rears back. I kick one more time with all of my might, and with a yelp, it loses its grip on the lion and tumbles to the ground.

  Richard’s breathing is labored, and his injuries are slowing him down. I try to assess them, as blood spills from two gaping holes on his leg.

  “Just a little farther,” I encourage him, patting his side. I wish I had a weapon to protect us, and I’m afraid that his injuries are serious.

  Two more wolves dart from behind a tree, nipping at Richard’s back. One of them gets too close to his mouth. Turning his head, he grabs the creature by the neck, shaking it like a rag doll, he snaps its neck. Others leap, and one lands on Richard’s neck, digging its claws into his flesh. Richard stumbles to the ground, and I’m thrown. I roll until I’m on my back. Every piece of me aches, but I don’t have time to think about that. I force myself up, even though every muscle protests. Pain shoots up my arm from my wrist when I try to push myself off the ground. It’s broken. Richard lays in a heap, his massive body rising and failing with labored breathing,

  A wolf circles us, its head swinging side to side as it tries to hook Richard with its tusks. I pick up a fallen branch, and with my good arm, I swing it at the wolf like a mad woman. The creature turns on me, but only for a second. The branch collides with it face, but it shakes it off as if I was nothing more than an annoying insect.

  Crap. I have managed to distract it form Richard, but now it has set its sights on me. It crouches, ready to pounce, I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the blow. When nothing comes, I open my eyes to see Richard holding the limp creature in in his mouth.

  ###

  We make it over the mountains in one piece. Now we stand on another beach, this one is different than the black beach we were on. The sand here is pink, and each footstep sends a cloud of pale dust wrapping around our feet. A blue river runs along the side of us, with huge pieces of floating ice. In the distance, the sky looks yellow. We must be close to Caillte.

  I glance over my shoulder for the thousandth time, looking for Jaxson. My chest constricts “He will be there, he promised,” I reason with myself.

  Richard stops and begins to pace the bank. The water seems much calmer here than the black river. There must be a place to cross over to Caillte. I reach for the necklace, pressing it to my chest, letting the steady beat of it offer me some comfort as I slip off Richard’s back and begin to look for a safe place. Apparently, they don’t believe in bridges in this world. I have to agree with Richards’s hesitation. I grew up in upstate New York, everyone there knows that it’s never a good idea to walk out on the frozen ice.

  It is not until we are about a mile down the river that I find a spot that looks safe enough. The ice has gathered at a bend in the water forming a bridge.

  “Richard,” I call to him.

  He is instantly at my back, nuzzling into me. A deep vibration from his chest rattles me.

  “If we want to get to the other side, I think we better cross here.”

  He huffs, letting out a warm breath, and I sigh, too.

  “I don’t want to cross any more than you do, buddy, but we have too.”

  He lets out a roar of protest. He is refusing to go any farther, and I can’t blame him. He lays down on the beach and licks his wounds. I can’t wait on him. I have to go. Jaxson might be there waiting for me. I am hesitant to leave the lion, but I don’t have a choice.

  With a quick goodbye, I leave him and cautiously step out onto the ice, water spills over the tops of it, making it slick. “It’s okay, I can do this, and Jaxson will be here,” I reassure myself, but I am not sure if I really believe it.

  No. Jaxson had to get out alive. He had to. I would feel it if he didn’t, I am sure of it. If he is not on the other side, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t leave this world without him. My throat aches with the thought, but I cannot cry. I have to get across the river first.

  The ice is slick, but holds steady, allowing me to cross safely to the other side and onto the island. Caillte is nothing more than a tiny island with one hill, and on top of the hill, sets the only tree. The air is warm with the sweet smell of honeysuckle on the breeze. I race up the hill to the tree, hoping that this is where the door to home will be. This is where Jaxson said he would meet me.

  Once at the top, I stop and turn around, scanning the horizon. I can just make out the other lands, but I don’t stand still long. I need to find the door home and be ready to leave when Jaxson gets here. I walk around the tree, this has to be where the door is, it’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s nothing else on this tiny island.

  The tree is not very tall, not what one would think of when picturing a doorway to another world. It has a thin, spindly trunk with olive green, teardrop leaves that hang low to the ground, and yellow trumpet flowers are scattered throughout the leaves, giving off no aroma, I wonder where the sweet smell is coming from. A pink ribbon tied to a branch blows in the wind catching my attention.

  “There is no way home. I don’t even see a place for a door,” I say in despair as I realize that there is nothing here but s tree, no door or magic portal, nothing.

  “Sometimes the smallest ones are meant to do the greatest things.” The tree shivers and a face begins to appear in the bark.

  “Holly—” I press my hands over my mouth, stopping the scream on my lips.

  “Sometimes the strangest things are also the kindest. Don’t be fearful, little one.” The voice sounds like a whisper being carried on the wind, and it floats up to the sky before wrapping around me. The tree reaches out, stroking a long, thin branch down my cheek.

  “Do not worry I was charged with the task of getting you back to your world.” She smiles. Her face is actually beautiful—for a tree. Her bark is smooth, making her look like a young girl. She shakes again and what I took for roots are actually her legs.

  “You are …” I stumble over my words.

  “Beautiful. Thank you. You may call me Willow.” She smiles, but it quickly disappears at the sound of howling in the distance. “We’ll need to work quickly, Eden.” She stands, pulling up the earth with her as she does.

  She begins to climb up the remainder of the hill and I try to follow. I have run to keep up with her long rooted legs. Dirt and rock come loose, tumbling down the hill behind her as she moves. The ribbon that trails out behind her looks familiar, but I cannot put my finger on it.

  When we are at the very top, she stops and takes a seat next to a yellow boulder, leaning on it for support. Her roots dig into the new earth, snaking their way deep until they are buried.

  “Step under my branches, and perhaps you will recognize something.”

  I look up at her. I should be afraid—so far almost everything in this world has tried to hurt me—but I’m not. I want to go home, and if walking under her branches will get me there, then I will do it. She parts her branches, which remind me of long braids, and gestures for me to enter. I hesitate for only a moment before I step through.

  It’s like I stepped into a different world entirely. A warm breeze blows around her trunk with the scent of sunflowers riding on the breeze. It’s my mother perfume. I close my eyes
, breathing the scent in. I used to nuzzle my mother’s neck when I was little smelling the comforting smell. I open my eyes and spin around, realizing that everything in here is a part of me. At the base of the trunk sets my father’s slippers that are so worn there is a hole in the big toe. I used to put them on after he’d left for work and flop around the house. I step closer, and etched deep in the trunk, is the word freak. I press my hand to it, and I can feel the pain of each time that word has been spoken to me.

  I lean my head against her trunk, aching for my parents, and hating the hurtful words that are said to me every day. Willow shivers in response to my touch, or perhaps she feels what I feel. I don’t grieve for long. Just like in my life, I push the hurt down deep and listen to words that float on the breeze. They are Essie’s chants and poems she used to say to me before she got sick.

  But she’s not really sick, she’s not crazy, she just had it wrong. There were no aliens, it was creatures from Faeylon. I laugh and continue my exploration of the tree. The pink ribbons that my mother used to tie at the end of my braids, and pages and pages of words I wrote drape the branches. Half of a best friend charm and a baby doll set on a limb, the toy is looking down at me with its beady eyes. It’s my old doll, the one I hid in the back of my closet because it freaked me out.

  I laugh and look up at the sun shining through the branches. Suddenly, something wet lands on my cheek, and tiny snowflakes in the shape of butterflies float around me. I fall to the ground and spread my arms open, letting them land on me. They whisper words in another language, but they are drowned out by the sound of a heartbeat, and I know that they belong to Jaxson. The heartbeat is faster than a normal one, but just as steady and strong. I can stay here forever.

  “You must not get lost in yourself, or you will become lost in both worlds.” Willow’s words enter my secret world.

  I want her to leave. I don’t want to share this with her. These are sacred and private parts of me. The snow turns to rain as Preacher Dan’s summon from my parent’s funeral echoes around me. I sit up and pull my legs to my chest, curling into myself.

  “I don’t want to leave.” I rest my head on my knee, letting the hollowness fill my chest as I listen to his words.

  “I cannot make you leave, but a great price was paid to return you to your world, and it will have been paid in vain.”

  I look up at Willow. A small blue bird has begun to build a nest next to her ear. This world is so strange and confusing.

  “But I have to wait for Jaxson,” I protest. “Besides, it’s safe here.” I rub my hand across my threadbare baby blanket, which I’m sitting on.

  “You must not hide within yourself. One’s daemons are always lurking just around the edges.”

  I look away from her, out toward the pale yellow sky that has begun to turn a deep shade of purple as it fills with dark clouds. Lightning splinters across the sky with the blood-curdling howls that pierce Preacher Dan’s sermon.

  I can see the wolves’ claws, and their horrible nuzzles sniffing at the ground around the base of her branches. “I cannot leave without him,” I say to Willow, panic filling me.

  “You must be strong, little one. What is truly yours will return to you.” The wolves’ howls echo in the night sky. “It will not be long before they find a way through my magic. Before they find my weakness,” she says, shuttering in fear.

  “How … how do I go home?” I ask, now desperate to be away from this world.

  She holds out her hand. “The price.” My heart beats frantically as the wolves’ claws at the ground, nipping at the air.

  “But I don’t have anything to give?” My throat aches.

  She takes a long, twig-like finger and runs it across the leather cord tied around my neck. Her fingers, no longer soft and gentle, scratch at my skin. The stone beats harder against my chest.

  “You always had it, even before you knew it.”

  “But Jaxson gave it to me.” I clutch the stone, feeling the warmth in my hand.

  “He knew that this would be the price for your return to your world. A heart for a heart.”

  A wolf has made its way halfway through already. I can smell its rotting breath. I yank the cord off my neck and hand the necklace over to her. The wolves outside go wild, and a frenzy is growing outside of Willow’s branches. I feel like I just gave her a part of me. The world around me begins to swirl in a dizzying motion. The ground cracks, breaking away and revealing an abysmal hole where the ground once was. Losing my balance I fall into it, I cover my head trying to protect myself from the earth and rocks that tumble past me.

  Falling is the easy part, the freedom of the fall, the lightness of it, everything else disappears. It’s the landing that is the hard part, the part were reality hits so hard it sends you toppling over. It’s the realization of what I just did that hits so hard, and I can no longer breathe.

  I spin in the darkness. The world has swallowed me whole, and there’s not an end in sight. I tumble fast, with only my thoughts of leaving Jaxson to occupy me, and then I slam hard on to the ground.

  Then everything goes black…

  The End

  Acknowledgment

  There are so many people I owe this book too. First, I need to first thank my wonderful family. Thank you for dealing with my late nights, and keeping my coffee mug filled. You have faith in me even when I doubt myself, I cannot even begin to thank you enough for the endless support.

  To Christina and Holly who read the first draft when it was less than finished and loving it with all its messy splendor.

  Kimberley at KimG-Design for the book design and capturing the story with such a gorgeous cover.

  Thank you to the amazing Sarah Davis Brandon, who took and chance on me and welcomed me into the fabulous publishing family at CHBB.

  Thank you to all the readers and bloggers.

  Melissa, for your great advice and for working on the first round of edits.

  And to Catherine Stovall, for helping DTG become polished for publishing. It was not always pretty, I cried, and cursed you, and laughed, but in the end of this journey I am truly thankful for you. You took this book further than I thought it could go and pushed me as a writer and for that, I am truly thankful.