When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series

by A. K. Koonce

  He’s still watching Gabriel speak through sign language. They’re friends? Shaw sent Asher’s friends out to bring him back? “Any tampering or tardiness will set the chip off. The hybrids aren’t all that Shaw has released into the woods.” His last few words are quieter.

  A chill wanders down my spine, but I stiffen my posture against the fear his words try to push into me.

  I wonder what else Shaw might have at the compound that could cause the look on Asher’s face, but I don’t ask.

  “We need to leave. Now. It’s close,” Asher says, still nodding to Gabriel before pointing and signing something quickly to his friend. “He sent them out here under so much sedation something as simple as a bear could kill them. It’d take a few of them to even attempt to capture us,” he says through clenched teeth when he turns to me.

  Asher takes my hand in his as he leads me further into the forest. Away from the river. Away from Ky and my mother. Gabriel follows unsteadily behind us. I glance at him and he gives me a drowsy smile in return.

  I stagger up the towering hill, trying to keep up with Asher’s hurried speed. He’s not moving in his usual blur of swiftness that I know he’s capable of, but he’s running at a pace I can almost keep up with. Even Gabriel in his drugged state is more graceful than I am.

  “The veil is coming,” Asher says once we’ve reached the top of the hill. I don’t ask what the veil is. A twist turns in my stomach at the cryptic name.

  He pulls me along the side of a crumbling rock wall and finds a crevice within the cliff. Hurriedly, he smears dirt, crumpled leaves and debris from the ground all over my shirt before he pushes me against the gap, I wiggle until my body is flush within the shadowed, jagged wall. I’m not concealed by any means. In fact, I feel like a child hiding in the corner of a well-lit room.

  Asher stands directly in front of me. Pushing his body against mine into the rocks. His face is shadowed within the walls of the cliff, and I can see where the rock cuts into his arms as he covers my body with his. Behind him, I see Gabriel standing back to back with Asher, his red hair mingling with Asher’s brown hair.

  “They’re known to travel in packs. If there’s more than one, we won’t stand a chance. Conceal your fear and harbor your confidence. You’re more resilient than I thought you’d be.” His admission catches me off guard, but he doesn’t dwell on my confusion. “I know you’re strong, Fallon Fiercely,” he says in a steady whisper, looking deep into my eyes.

  My terror diminishes under his adamant certainty of myself. A self-assurance I’ve never felt before is distilled into my nerves. I steady my breathing in and out, in and out, never looking away from his shadowed face.

  Leaves and branches can be heard cracking and being hurled into the air. I silence my breath. Asher leans over me. His head is angled down, his forehead touching my hair, concealing me into the cliff. Rock pushes painfully into my side, but I remain unmoving, unyielding to even the need to blink.

  I can’t see anything past Asher, but I hear movement just behind him. I can hear the dry, dead leaves being flung through the air. My heart pounds beneath my calm and steady chest, frantic for my senses to return to me. Fight or flight is kicking in, but I remain immobile, choosing neither.

  Asher’s muscles are tense, a strength laying poised, readying to be unleashed. He remains unmoving, one hand resting on the Crimson Sword while the other has slid around my waist between my hip and what I can only imagine to be another sharp angle of the cliff.

  Below Asher’s legs, past Gabriel’s feet, I can see bits of sunlight. Another raking of leaves is hurled into the air, and, against the cliff wall, a clawed, gray and withered leg appears. The talons of the feet dig into the dry ground in front of Gabriel. The leg looks like rotting flesh, and I swallow hard before clenching my jaw at the panic that dips into my stomach.

  Asher’s arm bumps into me as Gabriel motions a simple wave to the unseen creature. There’s an assessing silence and I picture the creature, the veil, tearing the flesh from my body with the taloned foot I see. A shrieking sound fills and echoes through the crevice I’m wedged into. My eyes flinch closed against the harsh noise that’s piercing and ringing through my ear drums.

  I refuse to open them again. Refuse to watch my death unfold before me. Asher was right. There are worse things in these woods. Things I can’t even begin to imagine, but also things that I will think of so often and vividly that I’ll never rest peacefully again.

  I tense as fingers graze my bare side and then relax as I feel Asher start to draw circles against my skin between my jeans and shirt. His fingers trace lightly there, a calming sensory input among the terror. I try to focus on the feel of each circle. Of each touch that drifts into each other. I lean my head against his chest and breathe him in. He smells of fresh dirt, and leaves, and … blood. I tilt my head back against the jagged rocks and slowly open my eyes to meet the few features I can see of the monster just a few feet in front of me.

  Another shriek is cast into the air and again echoes through the cliffs and into my hiding spot. I tense again at the sound as my heart pounds loudly in my ears, but I don’t shudder away.

  I can feel the breath of the monster seep into the cracks and fan my sweating face. Its breathing is heavy and impatient. I lock my jaw in place and wait for the animal’s decision. Will I live or will I face a terrifying death?

  The gray taloned foot lifts, kicking leaves forcefully into the air as it steps past Gabriel. Past us. A few minutes pass and finally Asher lifts his head, letting fresh air into the small area, and, when he steps back from me, my lungs drown in the clean air, taking big breaths as my eyes adjust to the sunlight.

  I push myself out of the crevice, scraping my elbow against the granite, and then look around for any sign of the veil. Gabriel’s complexion has gone pale, but he appears unharmed, unfazed really. Asher looks into the distance, into the direction the creature left. My feet falter as I stumble over a hole in the ground. I look down and find dirt pulled up from the ground in heaps. The creature’s footprint is wide and nearly the length of my arm.

  “Are you bleeding?” Asher asks, looking at my arm.

  I’m so dazed it takes a minute for my mind to find meaning in his words I look down at my black jeans and shirt, wondering if I cut myself on a rock, but everything seems fine. I turn my hands back and forth in front of me and find blood running down my fingers on my right hand. I turn my arm side to side a bit faster now trying to find the start of the wound. The blood feels sticky against my palm, and it takes me a minute to realize what has happened.

  I take a step toward Asher and Gabriel who are both waiting for my answer. When I lick the substance from the side of my hand, Asher’s eyes darken in confusion. Somewhere beneath the fear and anxiety and the false confidence, a smile pushes its way onto my lips. Just faintly, but it’s there.

  “Tayberries,” I say, licking the juice off the side of my palm again. “You were right; they’re delicious.”

  Chapter Seven

  Creation

  Gabriel leaves as stealthily as he came. Asher pauses, unmoving, for a long moment even after Gabriel is out of sight, worry shadowing his features. He stands motionless in the quiet forest like he expects, at any moment, to hear his friend’s death in the distance of the trees.

  I wait for him to finish waiting. The silence lets the events of the day sink into my bones, making me tired. I try not to fidget with my sticky satchel of crushed berries or to run my fingers along the healed spot on my neck he kissed less than an hour ago. So little time has passed, but so much has happened.

  After a long moment, Asher starts walking toward the river without any explanation and I don’t press him to speak. Our lack of willingness to make conversation in the most basic of day-to-day interactions makes our strange silence now feel … comfortable. Asher was used to not speaking, and I was used to not being spoken to.

  The compatible silence the two of us share doesn’t aid the tangle of dread in my stomach
that’s become an ongoing part of me. The need to understand what we’re doing out here, what we’re doing for Asher is growing every day.

  I watch him out of the corner of my eye as we trek through the thick forest. His eyes haven’t stopped darting through the trees, and he moves with unusual grace while I trip over every overturned tree branch and vine.

  “The veil, they’re not common. The government and the compound have worked to destroy and contain nearly all of them. The one back there, he’s probably one of a dozen of his kind left,” he explains, not looking at me. Reciting information like a textbook. He pauses to hold a vine littered with thorns back for me to pass.

  The veil are on the verge of extinction, but one’s running loose among us? Being used for Shaw’s personal dirty work because he can’t bear to lose the hybrid he wants so badly to destroy?

  What else could Shaw be harboring in the walls of that prison?

  “It came from the compound, though?” I ask quietly.

  He pauses to look at me, his eyebrows low in thought, and I instantly want to take my question back. It’s none of my business.

  “You’re not used to asking questions, are you?” He stops walking and waits, with anger flashing through his eyes, for me to answer.

  His look makes me hesitant, but I answer with honesty just as he has with me. “No. There are a lot of things I avoid in my life. It’s easier just to push them away. To not think of them at all. Most questions hold answers I’d rather not know. Or the questions are left unanswered.” I ramble on trying to make it sound alright, but he’s still giving me that half-confused-half-angry, sympathetic look and it’s painful to meet his eyes.

  “You don’t ever have to justify yourself to anyone. Especially me. But you deserve to know things that affect you. Everyone deserves to be included in their own life, Fallon.” He’s speaking softly and the anger has washed away from his crystal eyes. “The last few veil are locked away at the compound. Shaw was ordered to terminate the ones being held there, but he continued to study and run tests on them in a secure ward.” He starts walking again, and I follow close behind.

  “What are they?” I ask, trying to push the image of its rotting flesh from my mind.

  He opens his mouth slightly before closing it again. The trees surrounding us are starting to get less thick and I can almost hear the sound of the river up ahead. Asher looks toward the sky in the distance, between the nearly bare branches. I can tell he wants to leave the woods as quickly as possible, but is slowing his hurried pace to accommodate me.

  “Creation is nothing more than thousands of years of dominant genes. Take your camp for example; nearly everyone in your community is darker in color. Dark complexion, dark hair, dark eyes.” He takes a moment to glance down at my pale green eyes and a half smile touches his lips before he continues. “Their ancestor’s genes unknowingly filtered out the genetics that weren’t surviving this climate. It gets hotter every year and to survive the heat and the sun, their genes adjusted.”

  I think through my community and nearly everyone I’ve ever come in contact with. He’s right.

  “At the start of creation, it is the same. In every species. Dominant genetics survive. Most hybrids carry traits that instantly identify them.” He flashes me a confident smile and I roll my eyes at him even as the blush rises in my face.

  “It all starts in the womb. The human women who carry hybrids know almost immediately something is …“ He pauses, all the arrogance he held moments ago no longer shows on his serious face. “Wrong, abnormal. The child they carry grows at an alarming rate. A time in the woman’s life that’s generally thought to be so precious and sweet becomes terrifying and haunting. More like a parasite with a host than a mother and child. Few hybrids, like myself, physically take after the lesser dominant human genes, an exterior made to allure prey.”

  The word prey lingers in my mind even after he continues speaking. “The alternative is that they take after the father’s side.” He takes a breath and stares at the river just ahead of us. We stand unmoving on the inside edge of the tree line. I can see my mother and Ky at the shore, but we don’t move ahead.

  “Creation is about the survival of dominant genetics. Most hybrid births result in a veil fetus. The vampire’s aggressive genes course through every hybrid, but sometimes it’s too aggressive. Their genetics are too violent. Too determined to dominate. And a blind and distorted creature is born. A creature so diluted with power it’s unrecognizable. It hunts sightlessly, blinded from its cursed genetics but using its voice to hear. Shrieking sonar-like waves to lead it to its prey.”

  Asher glances down at me, and I swallow hard at his explanation. My eyes are wide, taking in his solemn face as he concludes his story. “We’re similar, like family. Its mind is a mangled mess that instinctively breeds destruction.” He pauses for a moment, taking a slow breath. “Society believes the only difference is that my mind is clear.”

  ***

  The power urging the river forward to a destination I’ll never see is so brutal it rips against the rocky edge where I stand. I glance down at the few tears that now occupy my dirty shirt. It’s cooler on the riverbank and I hold my arms around myself to keep the chill from crawling down my spine. Asher’s description of the veil keeps pushing into my thoughts even as I try to focus on other things.

  The sky is darkening and the sun threatens to fall. Asher is impatient to leave. As soon as we came out of the woods, he walked right past my mother and Ky and started getting our packs ready. He also tied a limp, dead turkey to the outside of his bag by its little leg. The animal is missing feathers, but, more disturbingly, it’s missing its head, its neck ending in shredded torn skin.

  Ky is sitting on a large flat rock soaking his leg in the cold water with Ripper lying lazily at his side, enjoying the way Ky is scratching behind his ears. My mother stands next to them on the rock, watching Asher with intensity.

  The sound of rocks under foot signals my mother’s movements. Asher’s awareness is starting to rub off on me.

  She walks up to my side, her arm brushing against mine. “Did anything happen in the woods?” she asks me.

  A crease touches her brows. Her face has grown even thinner in the past few days. My once beautiful mother is aging with worry. Her secrets are starting to wear on her.

  I glance over my shoulder to Asher who is strapping the musical instrument from the house over his shoulder. Panic settles into the bottom of my stomach. Should I tell my mother about the veil in the woods? About Gabriel? A few hours ago, the most interesting thing I had to report on was two, now crushed, mushrooms.

  “Nothing Asher couldn’t handle,” I say as carefully as possible, giving her a small smile before leaving her on the cold bank alone.

  ***

  Our nightly walk has been altered. Asher refuses to take us back through the woods tonight. The cover the trees usually provide us isn’t an option with the veil crawling through the forest. So, we keep close to the river instead. It’s also no longer a walk. For the past few hours, my lungs have been burning against the warm air I continue to heave down my throat in gulps as I try to keep pace with my mother and Asher.

  Ky has slowed down substantially and is actually at my pace now. His unsteady steps are heard in an offbeat rhythm when his metal blade hits rock. Sweat trails down his face, but he keeps his jaw locked tight, refusing to speak about the pain that I can hear in every jagged breath he takes.

  We’re all tired, dirty, and exhausted. Asher is holding back his speed to accommodate us, making my long lunges feel like toddler steps as I trail behind him.

  Asher slows his pace even more and then stops altogether. He glances from Ky’s sweaty brow to my tired eyes. My mother places a delicate hand to Ky’s elbow, but he says nothing. He won’t show weakness even to my mother.

  The dark sky, our usual cover, looms over us. The clouds are dense, barely revealing the full, shining moon. I take the luxurious minute to drink slowly from my water bo
ttle, slopping some into my hand for Ripper who laps it up in an instant.

  “Let’s take a break here. I’ll take watch while you guys sleep.” Asher’s voice is confident but kind. Ky nods in agreement, checking our surroundings. We’re at the bottom of a cliff, a few yards from the river. We’re left open at two angles, three if you count the edge of the cliff above, a shudder runs through my body at the thought of the veil leaping down from the sky, but at least the woods aren’t a threat here.

  Ky takes the initiative to build a small fire, and Asher works with him to cook the turkey over it in a mock rotisserie style set up. The cliff angles in toward the river, the jagged rocks creating a slanting ceiling to shelter us. The threat of something dropping down on us is less menacing here. The fire’s smoke rolls off the rocks above us and into the night sky like thick white clouds.

  The smell of the turkey cooking over the crackling fire wakes me up a little. Our erratic sleeping schedule has really affected my mood. The need for answers is no longer important to me. My mother’s standoffish behavior is her own problem. Sleep and the taste of that bird is all my mind has time for.

  After what seems like an eternity of turning the meat over and over and over again, my mother finally cuts into the turkey and inspects it. Ripper and I watch her with avid interest, waiting for a verdict.

  A smile spreads over her tired face. She removes the meat from the fire, using a small boulder for a table. She starts tearing off chunks and passing it out to all of us. Ripper dances around at her feet until she gives him a large piece, which he quickly snatches from her hand and eats in nearly one choking bite. Then he’s right back to his dance.

  She laughs, the sound startling and shortly lived, but enough to spread happiness to Ky. His lips turn up at the sound of her laughter, and they smile at each other over the fire.

  After everyone has food, she sits down next to me, her shoulder brushing against mine. Ky and Asher are across from us, and we’re all silent as we savor each bit of the hot food. The warm, fresh food has a strange effect on my body. My energy returns; I almost feel it filling my limbs. My mind and mood are also less sluggish and dejected after just a few bites.