I tilted my chin up to look at Read.
He’d shrunk back and peeked over the edge.
“Did you know baring one’s throat is a sign of respect to my people?” Gretchen asked me, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light.
I started to argue that I was looking up, not baring my throat, but realized that Gretchen hadn’t noticed Read.
Flexing my fingers around the rough stone in my fist, I tried to mentally prepare myself. The Reaper who had attacked fake-Read earlier had been fast, so fast that Gretchen could have stolen the cleaver and hit Cody. Everything was such a blur in my hazy memory, I couldn’t be sure.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Gretchen’s lips stretched in a smug smile, but she didn’t answer.
“You know what I think?” Phoebe said in her damaging, condescending tone. “I think that you’re a sad and lonely bitch who has nothing better to do than—”
Gretchen was on Phoebe before anyone could move.
The little Reaper had leapt into the air, slamming into Phoebe with enough force to throw her backwards.
Phoebe slid on the concrete floor a foot on her backside before Gretchen towered over her, still smiling. “Time for you to know who your betters are,” she said. Raising a fist, she plunged her weight down into the punch, colliding with Phoebe’s cheek.
I screamed, hoping to distract her, hoping one hit wouldn’t cave in Phoebe’s skull.
I didn’t even have time to run for Gretchen. It would have been too late.
As I screamed I felt the balled-up energy burst. It didn’t have time to heat up like it had with the Ona, but it was raw. Pain prickled through my fingertips and toes and arched through my skull. The power of the sharp stab dropped me. My knees cracked onto the concrete, and I felt only partially aware of what direction I faced.
Though I wasn’t able to push Gretchen away from Phoebe, I had stopped her.
She paused, silvery eyes rolling back to see me. “That must have hurt,” she said plainly. “You’re not very in control with all this, are you?” she stated as she stepped around Phoebe, aiming at me.
I recoiled. My skin prickled with sensitivities. It reminded me of a fever.
As Gretchen approached, I could feel heat radiating off of her, an intense heat that caused me to back away.
“Do you feel my power?”
Was that what that was?
“Neive felt it right away, but you didn’t. Had to wait until you were nearly burned out,” she noted, hardly masking her confusion. “Hm.” She gave a shrug. “Do you even know what you tried to do?”
I shook my head, which ricocheted pain inside my skull. The throbbing began to ebb, and my fingertips and toes felt numb to the touch.
“You tried to force me out of the Grave. That’s a big feat for one with so much human blood in their veins. Must be the witch’s influence. Unfortunately, you had no idea how to do it.” Gretchen clucked her tongue and raised her fist again. This time, Phoebe wouldn’t be the recipient. It would be me.
I swung my hand that clutched the enclosed stone up, but Gretchen easily stopped it and flung the stone out of my hand without even touching me.
I heard it clatter behind me on the concrete and felt my heart skip with it.
I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst.
Phoebe was still struggling to her feet. She wouldn’t make it in time.
My breath came slow. One, two, three breaths and I still waited.
“But I can.” Neive’s voice made me open my eyes.
Neive stood in the same dark clothing I had seen her in before. She didn’t glance at Phoebe, who hit the shelving behind her to back away.
Read stayed half hidden above.
Neive stepped closer, her expression remaining unreadable. “The rules were clear. You cannot touch her,” she said.
“Your rule. It isn’t in the big contract, I’ll have you know,” Gretchen retorted with a sneer.
Neive nodded. “True, but I could make it so.”
“Not before I beat this useless thing into a bloody pulp.”
Neive propped her hands onto her hips and said without pleasure, “Damien wouldn’t like that.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened, and she stared at me, her expression trying to tell me something that I wasn’t reading well. I shook my head at her, still dizzy, my ears ringing.
Gretchen clenched her jaw, muscles that shouldn’t have been there twitching in her face. “I could kill you both.”
For the first time, I noticed a shadow of a smile on my sister. “No, you couldn’t.”
I felt a force that I couldn’t see. It was as sharp as a blade, and it was slicing skin.
I scrambled to my feet, fighting the plaguing dizziness. I grabbed a shelf for support, trying to get away from the spinning.
The heat I felt between the two of them was scalding.
Phoebe yanked me to the side and further away, sending my head into a tailspin.
No longer able to keep my balance, I fell to the floor, my arm still in her grasp.
I heard Neive shout just as Gretchen dove at her.
Neive dodged, moving with an agile speed that wasn’t inhuman but was much faster than I could have ever moved.
Fingers outstretched, Gretchen clawed at her while in mid-air.
Neive was out of her reach by the time she landed, bare feet slapping on concrete.
“Stop slowing my movements,” Gretchen accused Neive.
Neive only smirked. “Stop being a baby.”
Somewhere further away, I heard a rumbling sound. Before I could listen, Gretchen’s child-like voice screeched wild, indistinguishable words. Speaking in a language that I couldn’t recognize, Gretchen and Neive yelled at each other.
To my surprise, Neive seemed quite fluent. She held her ground, her face twisting with some of the difficult-sounding words.
It was a gargling language, where it sounded as if Neive were trying to hock a loogie.
Gretchen said something, and Neive looked surprised. She snapped her teeth together, hard, and flung an arm out at Gretchen.
I felt the fiery energy that accompanied it and realized I should be building up the heaviness I felt in my stomach. Swallowing back bile, I tried to concentrate. I thought about the warmth I had felt and tried to imagine it rolling together, like an avalanche.
The energy Neive flung at Gretchen sent the Reaper sailing.
Her back hit one of the shelves behind her, arching her like a bow before she fell hard to the concrete. Sprawled on the floor, she shook her head, still alive and conscious but disoriented.
Phoebe released me, and I saw the rock she must have been holding streak through the air. It hit Gretchen’s kneecap with a thud, causing the Reaper to hiss and sit up.
The heat wasn’t building in my stomach as I’d hoped. I tried closing my eyes to concentrate. Maybe all the distractions were slowing me down. With my eyes closed, the world spun.
Nothing.
I couldn’t bring the heavy ball into my stomach. I tried to form it again and again. Each attempt was as useless as the last. Gretchen had said I was nearly burned out. Could this be my peak?
I opened my eyes. If I couldn’t do it, then I needed to help Neive in other ways.
Gretchen was on her feet and flying in a blur.
Neive swept her arm to the side as if to knock Gretchen out of the air.
But the Reaper girl was too quick. She latched onto Neive’s arm, teeth sinking into soft flesh.
The overpowering heat forced me to squint. I tried to shield myself with my hand. With Phoebe’s help to stand, we simultaneously bolted for Gretchen.
I could hear Read shouting overhead but didn’t look up as I wrapped my arms around Gretchen’s waif-like waist. I could feel the protruding bones of her hips digging into my arms when I pulled.
Neive shrieked, high-pitched and agonized.
I could feel the heat building from Neive. It was hotter than Gretchen’s had been,
but I ignored the burning sensation and squeezed Gretchen tighter.
Phoebe used a rock, probably the one I had dropped earlier, to club the grey Reaper on the top of her head. If Reapers bled, this one didn’t. Skin cracked and flaked away from white pristine bone, but there was no blood.
Despite the blow, Gretchen held on, though she didn’t appear as confident as before. Her teeth bit down hard, and she shook her head like a dog with a bone.
Neive screamed when I heard the distinctive crack. My stomach flexed at the sound when I realized it was Neive’s arm.
Upon the break, the hot energy erupted from Neive, disastrously hot.
It felt as if my skin were flaying back, exposing raw muscle.
My face, which was nearest, caught the brunt of her energy.
Just when I thought nothing new could surprise me, a body landed onto our group from above, taking Neive and Phoebe down.
Read had jumped. He had managed to elbow Gretchen in the shoulder, but also one wild hand caught me in the side of the head.
Tumbling back with the Reaper, my head spinning from the blow and my skin aflame from all the energies, I landed on my back with Gretchen on top of me. I hit the concrete floor and ducked my head, neck stiffening before it could crack back. The impact knocked air from my chest in a whoosh.
Opening my mouth for a breath, I realized I couldn’t get any. Panicked, I squeezed onto Gretchen harder.
Tiny, razor fingers scratched at my arms.
Ignoring the sting, I turned onto my side. I took Gretchen with me, rolling over her so that I pinned her onto the concrete floor.
That was when I heard the engine rumbling.
I looked up in time to see the forklift.
It was large enough that both Claire and Joel could fit in the cab. A cage and two long tines were the only thing separating them from us. It bore down on Gretchen and me at top speed.
Gasping, I stood up on rubbery legs and flung myself to the side.
I almost made it.
My right arm hit the steel edge of the cab, pain streaking up through my bones as I stumbled into the lowest shelf. Boxes on the shelf shifted instead of falling straight back, cushioning my impact.
I heard the thump and the churning of wheels as the forklift ran over the Reaper.
I turned around just as Joel stopped the machine over top of Gretchen, hiding her from view.
Neive gestured frantically at Joel to back up. Blood coated her arm like a second skin, dripping onto the concrete floor.
He hesitated, not quite certain what to do. He’d never seen Neive before. None of them had.
I realized Phoebe kept her distance from the dark-haired girl as well. She drew closer to me, Read at her heels. Phoebe’s green eyes hardly strayed from the newcomer, even as she asked if I was alright.
“Back up!” I shouted at Joel.
Joel’s dark eyes met mine, defiance dancing in them for a brief second.
Maybe part of him must have known he could trust me, but taking orders from me? Joel wasn’t very good at taking orders anyway—well, any orders that didn’t come from his football coach.
To my relief, he backed it up while Neive stalked toward the forklift as it wobbled back over the Reaper. She knelt beside the broken body, examining it closely.
I inched closer to her, hearing Phoebe growl a warning at me to stop.
“Neive?” I asked.
She didn’t lift her head to acknowledge me. Instead, she said, “Reapers can’t keep their heads on their bodies. They’ll be able to regenerate.” Kneeling next to Gretchen, I could see the body was torn and tattered, but there was still no blood.
Skin flopped back, revealing the skull, hair folded beneath the torn flap. Her left leg was twisted at an impossible angle. Gretchen didn’t move as Neive reached behind her and pulled a shiny silver dagger from a black sheath. It had blended right into her dark pants; I hadn’t noticed it there before.
Neive lowered it to Gretchen’s throat and proceeded to saw through the bloodless throat. At first I didn’t think I could watch, but for Cody, I would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
My shirt never lost its tackiness.
The blood had soaked through, staining my skin, which in turn stuck to the shirt. It was a perpetual, grisly reminder. I held my shirt away from my body with pinched fingers.
Neive lifted the Reaper’s head by the hair to avoid scraping concrete with her blade.
The entire process took at least a minute, Neive working while the rest of us watched either her or the floor.
I’d thought maybe she’d broken her arm, but the way she feverishly worked on detaching the head said otherwise.
Sweat sparkled her forehead, and the entire time I thought of the cleaver coming down. I hoped that Gretchen could feel every biting stroke. I hoped her kind, whatever it may be, could feel everything.
In my morbid fascination, I hardly felt pain in the arm dangling at my side. The dark thoughts swirled as I watched. Gretchen’s last moments should have been hours of suffering, just as I suffered. This process was somehow anticlimactic.
The last stroke severed the spinal cord, and with a firm tug Neive lifted the body-less head high, like a righteous kill. Lifeless, empty eyes stared out at us, mouth hanging and loose.
Joel and Claire climbed out of the forklift, leaving the engine idling, watching the scene skeptically. Their gazes were trained on my sister, though like Phoebe, they didn’t get too close.
“That’s…Neive?” Phoebe’s voice was soft when I moved back to join the cluster of people behind me.
I nodded.
Claire leaned in and whispered, “She’s pretty.” After a moment’s pause, she said, “She looks nothing like you.” I was sure that wasn’t meant as an insult and was just Claire’s tactless observations.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Joel jerked away from the group, darting for the forklift.
At first I thought he was going to jump back in when he stopped and picked up something from the ground.
Standing, he turned, revealing the silver ring pinched between his fingers. He slipped it on before anyone could protest. It fit, meaning it was meant for him anyway. I could protest all I wanted, but I would never get one. Again, mild bitterness at Damien’s sense of humor set my jaw tight.
Claire smiled at Joel until it disturbed the cut along the side of her face. Renewed blood cracked from the healing wound, causing her to cup her cheek tenderly.
That left Read and me. I seriously doubted Damien would be giving out mine next, but at least everyone else would be safe.
“Is that really you, Read?” Claire asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Read asked.
Only Claire seemed willing to explain.
I noticed both Phoebe and I took a step away from him and turned our attentions elsewhere. Why yes, that is an interesting scratch in the concrete types of stares were rampant. To our relief, Claire left out the little detail about Phoebe’s “truth.”
Read listened, favoring his shoulder, but no new blood seemed to be staining the clumsy wrap he’d made. “Where are Aidan, Robin, and Cody?” he asked at the end of Claire’s explanation.
That scratch in the concrete became three times more interesting.
Joel sucked it up. “Aidan and Robin are still missing. Cody’s dead.” The word dead fired a ripple of flinches through the group.
“He might not be,” I argued.
Joel’s dark eyes avoided mine.
Phoebe shuffled her feet. “It wasn’t pretty,” she said softly.
“Course it wasn’t,” I said defensively. “If we’re going to be convinced that it was real, he had to make it dramatic. Don’t you get it?” I asked them, my voice rising. “It was meant for me!”
Neive tilted her chin up to watch us, her eyes shining yet disquieted. Still kneeling beside Gretchen’s bloodless corpse, she held the dagger in one hand and Gretchen’s head in the other.
“Yeah,�
�� Phoebe said, trying to sound delicate, though it sounded far more condescending. “It was meant for you,” she confirmed. “That’s why Cody jumped on you.”
“He’s not dead. He can’t be. Why would Damien leave me with a protector and then just let Gretchen throw down the axe?”
Claire asked, “Protector? What protector?”
Phoebe’s eyebrows furrowed before she glanced at Neive.
All of us turned to her.
Startled, she stared back until Gretchen’s body twitched. We all jumped, including Neive. Claire screamed, knocking into Joel’s solid form, bouncing and then clinging to him.
Neive recovered quickly. Standing, she stomped on Gretchen’s back until the spasm ceased and tossed the head behind her as if it were a hunk of paper. She didn’t bother looking back as she stepped over the stone-still, head-less corpse, sheathing her large knife.
With morbid delight, I watched Gretchen’s head roll to the shelving. I was grateful that Gretchen’s face wasn’t turned towards us when it finally stopped. I felt so conflicted. Part of me delighted in the revenge while the other was revolted. Was this what Neive experienced every day? Did I like it?
I decided not to answer that, turning my attention to what Neive was saying.
“It’s true,” Neive said. “Phoebe was her protector, then I was, and then Damien took over the role. Now it’s back to Phoebe. Hence, your healing ability.”
Phoebe opened her mouth to protest but couldn’t find the words.
“Protector?” Joel snarled. “She gets a safe ride through?”
Neive nodded. “As safe as it can get without breaking the rules.” She jutted her chin toward me. “She is important to him.”
Phoebe asked, “Why?”
Neive straightened her back, her hair falling down her back. She looked stiff and even intimidating with the blood coating her arm. “She’s important to him because of me.”
Phoebe frowned. “Do they all talk in riddles?”
I realized she was asking me, and I attempted a failing smile. “Yup,” I said instead.
“What about Cody?” Read asked, his voice cracking.
Neive tilted her head to the side. “What about him?”
Read’s voice hardened, losing its usual steady composure. “Did he die with them?”
The Haunting Page 21
