Tempt_The Pteron Chronicles

by Alyssa Rose Ivy

  “Hailey is nothing like her.”

  “Not now. But there was a time when Veronica had that same spunk, that same drive. She wanted to change things—to change the worlds.”

  “But then she went dark… either before or after Randolph’s influence.”

  “Yes. It’s depressing how easy it is for someone to turn. I probably would have too if I wasn’t already a mix of the two sides.”

  “You admit you have an evil side?” Eloise took a step back.

  “Not evil. But dark. It’s impossible to be a Seer without it. But fear me not. When my interests align with someone, I never hurt them.”

  “You sound like the cat.” Cade sighed. “But at least you stand on two feet.”

  “Yes, we might as well be thankful for small things.” Sol winked.

  16

  Hailey

  I wasn’t falling. I was floating. Floating against my will through a vast and dizzyingly long tunnel. It was all darkness, aside from the pulsating lights glowing brightly every so often. Normally I’m decent at gauging distance but not this time. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to how often the lights appeared. Sometimes there were two relatively close together. Other times it felt like forever before one emerged. Even in the long periods of pitch blackness I could still see, at least in theory as there really wasn’t much to look at either way. No matter how hard I looked I couldn’t find any sort of ceiling beyond the shadowing up above. I tried to move toward it, but I couldn’t even move a hand. It was as if a weight far stronger than gravity had me pressed down. Yet I wasn’t on the ground. I was floating in thin air, and I was powerless to do anything about it.

  I kept waiting for something, anything to happen. But nothing did. For a few moments I considered whether I was really going in a circle—I tried to count the time between lights to record when I saw two close together or even three, but I saw absolutely no pattern no matter how hard I tried to concentrate.

  Something had to give. I couldn’t float there forever. I thought back on how I’d ended up there in the first place. I’d been digging my fingers between the stones in the floor. I remembered the glowing red light and the heat, but had there been more? Had there been more warning of what was to come, but I’d missed it?

  After a while I closed my eyes. There was no sense counting the lights if I was no closer to finding a pattern. From past experience I knew closing off one sense made the other senses stronger. I hoped the same thing held true this time.

  With my eyes clenched closed I strained my ears for sound. At first I heard nothing but continued silence, the complete and absolute silence I’d been experiencing since ending up in the tunnel somehow. For awhile that’s all there was. Silence. Deafening silence that made me want to scream, not merely out of frustration but because then at least I’d hear something, even if it was my own voice.

  I considered opening my eyes, but at the last moment I heard the tiniest sound at the peripheral of my hearing. Even the sound of my breathing was too loud as I struggled to hear the sound. I zoned in, and I realized it was a drip. A slow drip that was getting steadier by the minute. How had it taken me so long to hear it? The longer I concentrated the louder it became.

  I was near water. Well, I couldn’t know for sure it was water, but it was some sort of liquid. This sound, this discovery, was welcomed, but I wasn’t quite sure how to react.

  Did I open my eyes again? Would I have been mysteriously transported to the site of the water? Doubtful. It seemed I only heard the sound louder when I concentrated. I focused even deeper. The sound didn’t get louder this time, but I was no longer afraid of losing it. I’d heard the dripping sound earlier when we were looking for Anastasia in the maze. Was this the same liquid? Was I still in the maze somewhere?

  Another thought entered my mind. Was this tunnel just a trick? Had I lost my mind, or were the burns so severe my body was locking off? If that was true, was Wyatt still close by? Eloise? No. I’d know if Wyatt was near. We were connected on a level deep enough that I’d sense him. I’d seen him even when he was trapped in his dragon form. I’d know if he were near me now.

  I also knew he’d never willingly leave me in danger. And all of that together made it increasingly likely I was no longer in the same spot. I wasn’t merely unconscious. I was in this weird dark tunnel, or space, or whatever the heck it was. The question was where was that? Was it still inside the maze, or had I somehow transcended it to a new location?

  I heard a new sound—one I immediately recognized as high heels clicking on a hard surface.

  “I must have missed it.” A woman sighed. “I’m going to be late again.”

  What the heck? I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I repeated the words, willing myself to believe it. I was actually hearing this voice; the only question was where and well who was it coming from. I had two choices. I could ignore the voice and wait it out, or I could engage this woman, whoever she was, to figure out where in the world we were. I opened my eyes—at least I tried to—but it did nothing. The world looked just as dark as it had with them clenched tight.

  Hello?” I called tentatively, surprising myself with how easily I was able to speak. I hadn’t even considered opening my mouth since I’d unsuccessfully tried to scream to Wyatt for help.

  “Hello.” The voice replied. “Is there someone else here?” Heels clicked on the ground again before stopping abruptly.

  “Yes. I’m here. But—I can’t actually see you.” I couldn’t even see the floor her shoes were clicking against.

  “I can’t see you either, honey.” More clicking. “You must be on the other side of the tracks in the dark. You poor thing. I’m sorry to tell you but the train is not running northbound tonight. I believe it has to do with the construction.”

  “I’m not here for a train.” What the hell was she talking about?

  “Oh.” She fell silent for a moment. “To each their own I suppose, but I don’t see why you’d ever want to be down here if you didn’t have to. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” I asked immediately. I would latch on to anything at this point.

  “Are you one too?” Her voice lilted the tiniest bit.

  “One what?” I was desperate for any information she could give.

  “Never mind. I feel like I recognize your voice. Where do we know each other from? Maybe school?” The voice was female, youngish. Not a child, but probably someone very close to my age. However appearances and voices could very easily be manipulated. Besides, she talked in a different way than most of my peers.

  I considered my answer. “Maybe.”

  “Where did you attend?” She asked right away.

  “Tulane.” Tulane was a big enough school I wasn’t completely revealing my identity by revealing my attendance. I still didn’t know who I was talking to.

  “You mean Newcomb College? In New Orleans? My sister is a Newcomb girl. Graduated in 41.”

  41? As in 1941? “Oh.. uh yeah, maybe she knew my great-grandmother. She would have been there sometime around there.”

  The woman laughed. “You have a wild sense of humor. I’m a Radcliffe girl myself. I needed to stretch my wings after high school.”

  Radcliffe? There was only one Radcliffe I had ever heard of, and it was only because I had a great-great aunt that went there. I guess it had been a big deal at the time. I was pretty sure the college had stayed open through the 90s so maybe the woman only sounded younger than she was. And had a way older sister? Or maybe she said sister but meant close friend? “You mean the former sister school to Harvard?”

  “Former sister school!” Her voice rose. “Radcliffe is one of the finest women’s institutions in the United States. Far superior to Newcomb, despite what my sister Ethel would say.”

  Ethel. My great- grandmother’s name. Also the name of thousands upon thousands of other women who’d have been in college in the 1940s. Still, funny since I’d just been thinking about her. “I wasn’t trying to disrespect Radcliffe.” I kn
ew plenty of women who went to Newcomb and refused to say they graduated from Tulane. I got it. That’s why they kept some stuff under the Newcomb name even when the college was closed after Katrina. “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Ok, this whole college talk was great and all, but it wasn’t helping me in my current predicament. “What were you going to say earlier? When you asked if I was one of something?”

  “Oh. I suppose it can’t hurt to ask now that we’ve gotten to know each. But wait. We never properly introduced ourselves.”

  “I’m Hailey.” I was sticking to my first name until I knew exactly who this woman was. The whole sounding twenty when she had a sister that had to be in her 90s still struck me as odd. Although I guess nothing should have seemed odd when I was floating in darkness.

  “Hailey. That’s a pretty name. I’m Rose.”

  Rose. Okay. No way. “That was my great-great aunt’s name—she also went to Radcliffe.”

  “Really? How lovely. Wait, is this you joking, as you did about your great-grandmother?”

  “I wasn’t joking.”

  “Oh.” Her word dipped into silence. “So what class were you at Newcomb? I just graduated last spring, but I do know plenty of Newcomb girls I grew up with. I’m from New Orleans originally, and as I said my sister graduated in 41.”

  Wait, what? She just graduated last spring? The 90-year-old sister thing. Sure. But if she’d gone to Radcliffe it was impossible she’d just graduated. A strange, worrisome thought popped into my head. “Rose?”

  “Yes?”

  I braced myself worried my question would bring forth an unwelcome answer. “What’s your last name?”

  “Norman. I’m Rose Norman. What is your full name?”

  Rose Norman. Norman—my great-grandmother’s maiden name. My mom would have named me Norman if I’d been another boy. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  “No. What’s your last name? Do you know me? Wouldn’t that be too much fun?”

  Rose Norman. Rose Norman who graduated from Radcliffe sometime in the forties if I was doing the math right. Okay. Either this was a joke, my subconscious playing tricks on me, or I’d time traveled. Or maybe it was a spell? Had I been captured by Randolph without knowing it?

  “Hailey? Are you still there?” A slight tinge of worry colored Rose’s voice.

  “Yes. Sorry.” I needed to buy time. I needed to think. “My last name is Kaye.”

  “Wait, are you related to Edward Kaye?”

  Not that I was aware of, but I wasn’t exactly an expert on my family genealogy. “No, but could you tell me now? What you were going to say?”

  “It’s nothing. I am sure I was mistaken. I wanted to make sure you weren’t a—” Whatever it is she was about to say was rendered inaudible as a loud rushing and screeching noise drowned her out.

  I recognized the sound instantly and blinked over and over, expecting my vision to clear enough to see shiny metal barreling by me in a circa 1940s train station, but all I saw was the darkness and one small blinking orb. Then another. I was back in the tunnel of nothingness. Although I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever left.

  “Hello?” I called out. But I was met with nothing but silence. No Rose. No clicking heels.

  Maybe I needed to close my eyes again. I heard nothing at first, and then I heard the drip again. Low and steady. I focused more. But I struggled. All I could do was question my sanity and wonder about the others. Was Wyatt still in the maze? Had Glendale retrieved them without me? Had he found Hunter? Had Hunter found Anastasia? There were so many questions, none of which I could answer. No. I had to focus. There was some reason I heard Rose. Maybe it was the clue to getting out. I focused only on the water. The sound grew louder and louder.

  And then I heard a rustling sound. This time I kept my eyes closed since opening did nothing last time.

  “I don’t see why you keep seeing that man. He is nothing but trouble.” An unknown female voice spoke. It was equally as young as Rose’s had sounded, but there was a slight arrogance to it.

  “Excuse me?” The responding voice was one I immediately recognized. Rose. “Did I ask for your opinion on who I choose to date?”

  “To date. Once again that’s your problem, Rose. You should be focused on who to marry.”

  “Oh yes, since you have forgotten all of our plans now that you have Oliver.” Rose’s voice was hard. It was far different from how she sounded last time we spoke. Or whatever it was we did. Oliver? Was I confused or was that my great-grandfather’s name? I felt like my mom had brought that up before. That was the weirdest part of this. Rose, Ethel, Oliver, those were all people from my mom’s side of my family. The very human side of my family. How could her human family tree tie into the whole Emerald Flame mess? It made no sense.

  “That’s not true. We can still do everything we planned on,” the first woman argued.

  “Stop living in a fantasy land, Ethel. You can’t. You’re having a baby. Your job is to take care of your child. I’m on my own now, and that’s okay with me.”

  “You don’t have to be alone. Come back to New Orleans. Oliver has so many friends he wants you to meet.”

  “I can’t come home, and you know exactly why.”

  There was more rustling. Maybe it was someone’s jacket or a bag. “Daddy is dead. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

  “He made us promise.” Rose’s voice sounded pained. “One of us needs to take over or he said bad things might happen.”

  Ethel laughed. “Come on, you can’t believe that. It was some silly position he got from an equally silly organization. I mean they call themselves The Society. Can you think of a more hysterical name?”

  The Society? My chest clenched. These couldn’t be my mother’s ancestors. She only knew about The Society from my father. I shook myself. Of course they weren’t my mother’s ancestors. I couldn’t hear conversations from the past. Could I? I guess I didn’t really know what a Lightness was capable of. I made myself focus on the conversation.

  “They are real. I went to their headquarters. It’s real. I can’t even explain what that felt like. It was beautiful. Marble floors, columns. And the King. The King just emulated power. I couldn’t even talk in his presence. But that’s beside the point. They assigned me to New York. I’m staying here. And I have company.”

  I could practically hear her smiling.

  “Bad company.”

  “I love him.” Rose’s voice turned to a whisper. “I really do.”

  “Who?” I tried to speak out loud, but the word got lodged in my throat. “Rose?” Once again I knew the sound wouldn’t even reach my own ears.

  “We should go. The station is going to close soon.” Ethel was curt.

  “I was hoping she’d be back. But she’s not.”

  “Who? That mystery girl you thought I might know from Newcomb? Maybe you imagined her. Daddy went crazy from this job. Maybe it’s already happening to you.”

  “I’m not going crazy. You go ahead.”

  “But it’s getting late,” Ethel argued.

  “I won’t be long. I’ll catch up.”

  “Fine. But please come quickly.” The sound of high heels echoed.

  “Hailey?” Rose called.

  “Rose.” Once again the word was lodged in my throat.

  “Ethel is right. I imagined you. How positively disappointing.”

  “No I’m here.” I said the words in my head even though I knew she’d never hear them.

  “I thought you might be a protector too. I could really use someone to talk to about this. I don’t see why it all has to stay secret.” She sighed. “But it is not meant to be.” Another set of heels echoed off the floor, and I knew before I opened my eyes our connection was severed.

  December 24, 1946

  Mrs. Delford

  I never enjoyed my visits to New York. Even as a young girl I was uncomfortable there. It was as if the city itself knew all my secrets and was laugh
ing at me. Maybe that should have been the first sign there was something seriously wrong with me, but I felt that way nonetheless. Some would say your secrets are easier to keep in a city that large, but for me it was a prison I was always eager to escape.

  Yet, now a grown adult, and seemingly in charge of my own geographic decisions, I found myself back within the confines of my least favorite place.

  A full year had passed since my husband’s death. A full year had passed since my short-lived affair with the Drago. But it might as well have been decades, centuries with what else had changed. Randolph. A demon like none I’d ever met had crept into my life when I needed him most. He promised me the revenge I so desired and the lifetimes I craved, but it would come at a price. One such price was why I was on the Upper West Side on Christmas Eve.

  I’d found her easily. She followed her route diligently dressed in a long black coat and a pair of heels that must have left her little feet freezing in the chilly evening breeze. I wasn’t all that surprised by her choice of footwear. After all, she was a human dumb enough to believe she had any right interfering with the supernatural world.

  I watched her for a while. I had a few chances to snuff her out, but I let them pass because my curiosity wanted to study her. What made her so special she’d been selected as the first female protector? Was she sleeping with someone high up? It was impossible to know. She was pretty. Pretty in that girl next door, every man’s dream bride kind of way. But that wasn’t the type of woman the powers that be usually went for. It was something else about her. Maybe something as simple of being from the right bloodline. Maybe it was an honorary job like the pitiful one they’d tossed me. I thought with indignation that her job was far superior to mine.

  I followed her. She went down into the subway. Then back up to the street. It was exactly the route Randolph had drawn out for me. I followed her, mostly bored and cold, until she turned into an alley that wasn’t on her route.