Eternal Hope (The Hope Series)

by Rose, Frankie

  “Why isn’t she opening her eyes?” Tess cried, pulling at Farley’s arm.

  Kayden appeared, drenched and silent, at their side. “Because she’s not there right now. She’s somewhere else.”

  Daniel let his head fall forward into his hands. “But she’s going to be okay, right?” he breathed through his fingers.

  “Yeah. She’s going to be fine. She’ll come back when she needs to.”

  “And Anna?”

  “She’s going to be fine, too.” Kayden’s sodden sneakers appeared right next to Daniel. “Are you going to be okay?”

  When Daniel looked up, Kayden was holding his hand out to him, wearing a worried frown. Daniel considered it for a second before accepting it and standing up.

  “Yeah, bro. I’m going to be okay.”

  Forty One

  Claustrophobia

  Simeon was walking down the corridor, five paces ahead of her. The sound of his footsteps echoed closely off the walls, making them feel tighter than they really were. Farley recognised the corridor: it was the one she’d run down when she’d seen Oliver in the Tower, the circular one leading off to the Quarters. Now, though, trailing behind Simeon, it seemed claustrophobic and narrow, the air stale and lacking in oxygen. She jogged forward to catch up to him.

  “Simeon? Simeon!” she hissed. He turned and looked at her as though her presence was completely normal. The torches on the walls cast small circles of dingy yellow light, washing the corridor in a dim glow. Their effect wasn’t quite enough to properly illuminate the tunnel, but it was enough to turn Simeon’s rich brown hair black. He wore a simple tunic that cut off above his knees, completely unlike the regular shirt and pants she’d seen him wear before. He looked nervous, twitchy.

  “What are you doing here, Farley?”

  She skipped up alongside him, caught at that awkward speed between walking fast and jogging. “I don’t know. I-” Her head hurt. Like, really hurt. She was having trouble focusing on anything other than how tight everything was down here and the fact that it was so hard to breathe.

  “I told you not to come back until you could answer my question. I trust you’ve worked it out?” Simeon said curtly.

  She nodded her head. “Yes, you… I...” Can’t remember. Tell him the answer. Tell him the answer. But she couldn’t remember the question, let alone the answer. Her temple throbbed like she’d been on the business end of a baseball bat, and the walls pushed in from either side, threatening to crush her.

  “Why does this corridor feel so tight?” she asked.

  Simeon flashed his warm brown eyes at her. “I hate it down here. I never got used to it. The walls are always closing in, the ceiling’s always ready to fall down.”

  Farley faltered, scanning up and down the walkway. Just at the cusp of the bend Saxon appeared, following slowly behind them. His hands were folded behind his back, and he was trailing along like this was nothing more than a casual stroll in the park. He was obviously used to the panic that pervaded this memory, but Farley wasn’t. She’d never felt so claustrophobic in her whole life, and she’d lived down in that cramped hangar for weeks. When she spun around, she barrelled straight into Simeon’s chest. He stood right behind her, pulling an annoyed face.

  “What is the answer to my question, Farley?”

  Her heart was beating like a jackhammer, which made it even harder to think. She opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t remember.”

  “Remember or leave,” he said. Down the hall Saxon had stopped following and was keeping a safe distance, refusing to come any closer. Farley narrowed her eyes at Simeon.

  “I can’t.”

  He tilted his head, cocking it one side. “I asked you what this place was? Do you know?”

  “Yes, I…” She swung her gaze from Simeon to Saxon. Both of them watched her with intense curiosity. She felt like Alice growing too big for the room after she’d polished off the ‘eat me’ cake. The whole tunnel appeared to pull long and thin, shrinking in height and width. Her hands broke out in a nervous sweat.

  “What is this place, Farley?” Simeon repeated, growing irritated.

  “It’s… I...” Simeon stepped forward, placing his hands on the tops of her arms. He was pushing her backwards, a cold glint in his eye, when everything snapped into place. Farley finally blurted out, “It’s a prison! This place is your prison!”

  Simeon dropped hold of her, watching her with a soft satisfaction. Farley touched her fingertips restlessly to her throat, like that would somehow make it easier to breathe. “You’re trapped in here, aren’t you? You can’t get out?”

  Simeon nodded slowly. The concept of the mad Simeon locking the sane one away was the only thing that made any sense. But did he know that was the reason he was trapped? His expression was enigmatic.

  “I can’t leave.” He spun on his heel and started off down the corridor again. Saxon started walking too, and for a moment Farley considered waiting for the other man. Somehow, she didn’t think Simeon would like that. She hurried to catch up with him and reached out for his hand.

  “Wait!”

  At her touch, Simeon froze to the spot. He looked down at her hand holding his like it was the most alien thing in the world. Farley let go.

  “You said if I figured out what this place was, you’d take me anywhere I wanted.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, “to any of the places stored within my memory.”

  “Good. You have to get me out of here.” The panic attack inspired by Simeon’s dislike for underground spaces was kicking her ass.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere. Somewhere above ground.” As she said that, a thought forced its way into her mind. “Take me to the time when you underwent your rites. I want to see that.” Maybe it was morbid curiosity, and maybe it was something else, but as soon as she latched onto the idea, Farley was determined to see it. It was relevant- everything inside her said so.

  Simeon’s countenance darkened. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Yes, you do. Please. Please get me out of here.”

  “I told you, I-”

  “PLEASE!”

  Simeon drew his lips into a tight line. “Alright.” He reached out and hesitantly took her hand, drawing her close. He closed his eyes, but Farley kept hers open. She watched as the sandstone walls crumbled into dust and the light from the many torches slipped free and ran like liquid mercury until it all bled together. In a single accumulated ball of light, the dingy yellow glow shone brighter and brighter until it was as brilliant as the sun. And then that’s exactly what it became.

  The ceiling fractured and tumbled down around them, filling the air with a hollow rumble, and the light pushed upwards, rising like a helium balloon until it rested in a washed out blue sky. The rubble was replaced by scorched, dry grass. A sparse thicket of birch trees surrounded them. When Farley inspected the area, she saw nothing but trees. And Saxon. He leaned against one of the narrow trunks, staring up at the sky like he hadn’t seen the sun in the longest while.

  Simeon looked around and shook his head, giving off a shallow whisper of a laugh. Farley raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

  “If you didn’t like how frightened I was in the last memory, you’re really not going to like this one.”

  Before Farley could consider his statement or re-think her request, a shrill, blood-curdling cry ripped through the air. Simeon’s smile fell from his face.

  “Welcome to my nightmare.”

  Forty Two

  Rites And Wrongs

  Figures in dark brown robes moved like wraiths through the forest. Their faces were buried deep inside their cowled hoods, lost to shadow even in the light of the day. At the front of their small column, two robed men dragged a body between them. It was Simeon.

  “What’s going on?” Farley whispered. She wasn’t even vaguely surprised that the Quorum had something to do with this whacked out memory, but that didn’t mean she understood what they were up to. S
imeon shot her an aggravated look.

  “You wanted to watch. So watch.”

  So she did. The Quorum members dragged Simeon kicking and screaming to a small opening in the trees, where a large flat stone sat dead in the centre. It looked like a sacrificial altar, and Farley had no doubt that’s exactly what it was. In front of it stood a lone stooped figure, again in a robe, and at its feet knelt Saxon and Aria. They were bound and gagged, and their eyes bulged wide with fear. When the version of Simeon being pulled along by the Quorum saw them, he jack-knifed and picked up screaming, only this time loud enough to startle the birds from the trees. They took to the sky with angry cries, their dark wings rustling.

  “Simeon,” the stooped figure announced. His voice was resonating and deep. There was a quality to it that was exactly like Agatha’s, except this voice was most definitely male. He stretched out the S in Simeon’s name so it sounded like the hissing of a snake. Very bad start.

  Memory Simeon was dumped unceremoniously at the Emissary’s feet- he could only be the head of the Quorum- where he collapsed in the dirt. “Who are you? Why have you taken my wife and brother? Where is my son?”

  All very good questions, but they took Farley aback. So Simeon hadn’t known who the Quorum were when they took him? And he mentioned his son. She hadn’t thought about that for one second, but of course Simeon must have had a son. He wouldn’t have been allowed to undergo his rites otherwise, what with the stupid rule about the continuation of the Reaver’s precious bloodline and all.

  The Emissary stepped forward and drew an ancient-looking bone-handled blade from within his robe. “Simeon, you are chosen to rise above.”

  Simeon stared up at the figure, his arms pinned to his sides by the Quorum members. His mouth gaped open. “What are you talking about? Who are you? Release them!”

  The Emissary stepped forward. “We are the Quorum, your creators. You are brought before us to receive your gifts. We offer you immortality. We offer you extraordinary power above all others on this earth. Would you refuse us?”

  Simeon locked eyes with Aria. Her blond hair was crusted to the side of her head where she was bleeding from a jagged cut on her temple. A gag had been tied in her mouth, but she could still speak with her eyes. Fear and pain. She shook her head slowly, and bright tears fell from her eyelashes. Simeon fell forwards, grunting as he tried to reach her.

  “Let them go!”

  Saxon started screaming through his gag, which looked to be tied even tighter than Aria’s. He pulled against his bonds, but he only succeeded in irritating one of the Quorum members. A swift boot in the back sent him rolling into the dirt, howling through the gag. The Emissary gestured to have him picked up.

  “You think you have a choice here, Simeon, but you do not. Like many decisions in this life, one must be made, but we are not always given the options we desire. The options I offer you are these.” The Emissary leaned forward and pressed the bone-handled knife against Aria’s cheek. “Her...” He swung the blade then, pointing it at Saxon. “Or him.”

  Simeon stopped struggling and went still. “What do you mean?”

  “Everything in this universe comes back to energy. Power. Souls are raw power. We want to give you so much power, so much command. But in order to do that, you must take a little. It’s the way of the universe, Simeon.”

  “I know nothing of the universe. And I want nothing of your gifts. Release my family,” he seethed.

  Farley tensed. Right then, the emotion pouring off Simeon was pure outrage. It permeated the air and made it difficult to think straight. A small part of her left unaffected by the anger was worried, though- sensed what was coming. The Emissary, invisible inside his robe, darted out and slashed at Simeon, swiping the blade down his arm. A line burned down Farley’s own arm, making her hiss though her teeth. She wasn’t going to get used to this; it was frightening being pulled into the emotion of a memory, but it was even worse feeling the pain of it.

  The Emissary drew his blade through a fold of material in his robe, cleaning off the blood. “You will be careful how you speak to me, boy. And you will choose. Be warned, one of these two will die today and at your hand. If you do not comply, we will kill them both. And where is the sense in that?”

  The anger in Farley’s soul burned hotter, but now it was counterbalanced by a well of fear so deep it left her stricken. She reached out and the Simeon by her side took her hand. Being a Reaver, Farley had always assumed Simeon had wanted his power, had counted down the days until he could take what he considered rightfully his. But the man on his knees in front of her was terrified, and he wanted no part of the Quorum’s offer.

  “I cannot be forced,” he said.

  The Emissary clenched his fist around the handle of his dagger. “You can be forced. But I have an idea. Why not let them decide? That would be fair, would it not?”

  Aria started sobbing through her gag, struggling for breath. Saxon, who had been quiet since the Quorum member kicked him, remained so. He fixed his eyes on Simeon and blinked. He looked to his sister, and then up at the Emissary.

  He nodded.

  In that split second, he’d given his life away. Farley felt a ball of hot pain build in her throat; her airways wanted to close up, but she couldn’t let them. It was hard enough remaining in control without having to fight for breath too. Her tears were going to have to wait. She looked over to the other Saxon, still leaning against the tree close by. He gave her a hard, defiant look that penetrated right through her. She really couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The next few seconds passed like a blur.

  The Emissary ignited chaos with one casual flick of his wrist. Two Quorum members rushed forward to grab hold of Saxon underneath his arms. They hauled him forward and threw him face down onto the sacrificial slab, his hands still bound behind his back. Aria grew hysterical. Her nose was streaming, and her eyes were peaked with fear. Saxon, his cheek crushed against the slab, gave her a calm look.

  Bile rose hot and acidic in Farley’s throat. A blind panic engulfed her. This wasn’t her, though, it was Simeon. This was what he had felt all those years ago, and he was reliving it now because she made him come back here. One word was all it would take; she could tell Simeon she wanted to leave and they would. When she looked up at the Simeon by her side, Farley almost did. But the look on his face, the grim misery etched there, stopped her. He was staring straight at Saxon on the slab, and, strangely, he was staring right back.

  “Can he see you?” she whispered.

  Simeon didn’t say anything. He watched as the Emissary dragged the old version of him to his feet and pressed the knife in his hand. The sound seemed to fall away from the memory as that Simeon watched Aria pitch and scream on her side in the brittle grass. She was frantic. The Emissary nodded and two more men moved forwards. One reached down and held a knife to Aria’s throat. Her eyes widened with fear. Simeon’s shoulders hitched up and down erratically for a moment before he staggered forward and held his hand out.

  He spoke, but his words were lost. He closed his eyes, and so did the Simeon by Farley’s side. Both of them froze that way for a second before the Simeon with the knife opened his eyes and swung around to the slab. Saxon didn’t look at him. He was staring straight at the space next to Farley, and she swore he was looking right at them. Farley took a panicked step forward but the bound Saxon gave a small shake of his head.

  A wild feeling coursed though her. “He can see us! Do something.”

  “What’s done is done,” Simeon whispered.

  The memory rendering of Simeon mouthed something, said something to Saxon, at which point he closed his eyes and nodded. A Quorum member rushed forward, grabbing hold of Simeon’s free hand. He placed it on top of Saxon’s bound ones, making sure they had physical contact.

  The knife descended quick and clean, right in the back of Saxon’s neck. With the swift action came a wall of despair that hit Farley like a ten-ton weight. She reeled backwards, staggering. Her lungs spasmed
, but the air just wouldn’t seem to go in. She fell to the ground, brought to her knees by the cataclysmic pain. From her vantage point, all she could see was the backs of Simeon’s legs as they buckled, refusing to keep him upright, and a small trail of blood. It ebbed down the stone where Saxon lay, in a slow meandering trickle that gently pooled in the dry grass at its base.

  All at once the sound rushed back into the memory. Farley could tell by the static crackle of it ticking in the air, and yet the world stayed deathly silent. Her ears pricked, searching for something. Simeon’s ragged breath eventually came into focus, and it was like everyone around him had paused, waiting for him to do something. The Emissary reached forward and plucked the bloody knife from Simeon’s hand. He cleaned it once more on a fold in his robe.

  “It is done.”

  ******

  Of all the people, it was Saxon who helped Farley up. Aria’s brother. The memory had faded by the time she regained a sense of calm, and she found herself hovering at the foot of a bed in a familiar room. It was the room where she’d first met Simeon, but it was as it had been when she’d first gotten there- candle lit and peaceful instead of painted in flame. She sank back onto the bed feeling hollow and exhausted. Saxon reached out and traced the tips of his fingers sadly down her face. There was such sorrow in the way he held his body, the way he pulled his mouth up to one side and silently nodded to himself. He slipped quietly out of the room, leaving her there with Simeon. He was perched on the very edge of a hardback chair, his elbows propped on his knees while he stared blankly at the wall. Farley narrowed her eyes at him.

  “It’s only Saxon in here with you, isn’t it?”

  Simeon nodded. He buried his face in his hands. Somehow Farley had known that it was just the two of them. “There are ways for you to give him his voice, y’know.” It seemed incredibly unjust that Saxon had given up his life for his sister and his friend, and he had to live out a silent existence inside Simeon’s mind.