Sighing, he turned the corner, dappled light filtering into the building making the interior seem softer—more welcoming—than it ever was. Swallowing, he rapped on the door, trying to still his heart when it swung open.
Emory blinked up at him. “Brokk? What’s up?”
Darkness lined her eyes, her skin dull and pale, her ebony hair pulled in a messy bun.
“Hey, Em. I was wondering if you would be up for a walk?”
Questions hung in her emerald gaze as she appraised him. “Sure. Give me a second.”
The door clicked shut as internally he kicked himself. Did she wish Memphis had been on the other side when she opened it? Maybe his best friend had already sought her out, finding his own reprieve from what they had gone through.
Exhaling, the door opened once more, Emory adorned in a black collared jacket and high leather boots. A jeweled knife was buckled around her hip.
“Where were you thinking?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you. Come on.”
Before he could think this was a terrible idea, he grabbed her hand, warmth traveling up his arm, as he led her outside. The sun welcomed them; the warm breeze unseasonably warm for the end of summer. Drinking it in, Brokk let go of Emory’s hand, trying to keep his voice level. “Up for a trip in the woods?”
“Brokk, we can’t. Whatever you have to say to me, you’re going to have to do it here.” She shrugged.
“And when did you start caring about the rules?”
“When people started dying.” Her tone was equally as icy, and he shook his head.
“This was a bad idea. Sorry to bug you, princess.” His words were hostile.
Emory stepped back. “Do you have a problem with me now, Brokk? Whatever it is, get it off your chest.”
Standing in the courtyard, there were so many things he wanted to say. That he was sorry for not telling her the truth about the secret he carried. That he wished everything could go back to normal between them.
Tension hung heavy, like a live wire.
But most of all, he wished he could tell her about his darkest secret. That deep in the night, his heart revealed his greatest wish these past years.
And it was her—had always been her. To taste her lips, hold her against his chest, feel her heart beat in time with his own. He was unconditionally in love with her, and for a fleeting moment he had the impulse to tell her everything. But now, being with her, his best friends face swam in his mind the fear of losing Memphis made him bite back every word.
Shooting fear clambered through him as Emory pointedly looked at him, daggers in her eyes.
“Just forget it.” Gruffly, Brokk dropped his books, shifted in one motion, and galloped toward the trees, blood pounding, heart roaring. The coolness of the forest washed over him, as he tried to empty his mind, not looking back at Emory once.
Chapter Thirteen
Adair
Sitting in his bedroom, Adair realized the days had little meaning anymore. Ever since arriving back at the Academy, he felt hollowed out. Every second, every breath, his heart sank a little deeper, his thoughts consumed by one thing. His obsession.
To find this Book of Old.
After he had killed the creature from Sarthaven and passed out, Roque and Nei had moved him so that he awoke in their office, bloodied and bruised, but there with them. Their pale faces stared at him, filled with fear and awe. Adair clenched his fists, remembering the discussion. How they were so proud that he was standing up with the Academy even though both of his parents...
He had blocked out most of the conversation after that. But sitting there, as they bantered on, the room around him seemed to bend and move like the ocean until Adair was staring at one fixture in the wall. It seemed to pulse, a strange glow seeping around the edges, a deep green. The mist spiraled and churned toward him, making his pulse thrum.
Blinking, he was entranced but pulled himself back to the conversation. He had nodded and thanked them graciously, saying that he was honored to be a part of this with them. How, of course, he had thought his parents were wrong. Reassured, he had left them, claiming he needed rest and had made his escape.
The first thing he did before heading back to his room was to get rid of the book that had led him to Gortach. The Faes wouldn’t be looking for it, especially in the common library. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t care who found it, it would only lead them to their death.
A day had passed since this, and he could practically hear the chilling whispers of those demons that haunted him endlessly from his nightmares. They clambered to him through the walls of the Academy, relentless.
“Find me. Find me.”
Through his classes, through the night, they called to him. He went through the mandatory day, floating through his classes, his mind constantly calculating how he would get back into the Faes’ office. How he would claw and tear through the walls, destroying and consuming everything until he found it. He could practically taste that same ancient magic oozing through the walls, and he wanted it.
Adair blinked, looking at himself in the mirror. His bedroom was more chaotic than usual, books and clothes littering the floor. His skin was deathly pale, bruises flowering almost every inch of his skin, dark circles underneath his eyes. Taking in a shaky breath, he started to unbutton his loose shirt. A dull pain throbbed along his chest, a constant reminder of what had happened ever since those monsters had touched him in his nightmares.
One came loose. And then another. Slowly, he made his way down the line until the shirt floated to his sides, and his breath hitched.
At his heart’s center, a circle the size of his palm had risen to the surface of his skin. The inky blackness moved with each heartbeat, and tendrils spread across his skin. His throat burned as he grappled at his skin.
What was reality and what was nightmare? The two bled and blended together without any recognition until he didn’t know what to believe anymore.
He swiped his hand across his chest, as if the movement would clear the blackness from his skin. Sweat dripped down his nose and his eyes flicked to the back of the door. Licking his cracked lips, he buttoned up his shirt.
He wouldn’t wait any longer.
Crossing the room, he slipped out, the door closing behind him. The Academy was still, curfew having already passed. A shiver rippled across his skin when he heard the light footfalls of the security patrolling the hallways. Looking to the right, at the end of the hallway, a dull green light caught his eye. It seemed to ooze from the interior of the walls. The corners of his lips turned up in a sly smile, and he took a step toward the light. The light blazed, cutting into his senses.
Weaving deeper into the Academy, Adair followed the light, his blood pounding in exhilaration as he let every other thought go. He had only one purpose, to find this Book of Old and be the undoing of Roque and Nei Fae.
Moving with stealth, Adair slipped into the shadows.
Chapter Fourteen
Brokk
Slipping the worn book into his bag, Brokk tightened the straps on his backpack. Donning his jacket, he asked, “Ready?”
Memphis nodded once. They wore practically matching outfits, which was their training gear. Lightweight and water resistant, the jacket and pants were a matte black material. Perfect to blend in with the night.
Nodding, Brokk took in a deep breathe before slamming his fist into his bedroom wall. Call it paranoia—he didn’t care. In the recent years, he had secretly constructed his way out.
Emory had told him how complex the Academy was, and Brokk had tapped into its hidden passageways. He covered his mouth, muffling his cough as concrete dust floated up to him, his broken bones in his hands healing swiftly.
Before them, a dark spiraling tunnel was splayed before them, diving down into the darkness. Cool air rushed up to meet them, filled with the lingering smell of damp earth and rain.
Raising a pale eyebrow, Memphis appraised him.
Ducking into the tunne
l, Brokk’s voice echoed. “You know you can tell me every once in a while that I am right.”
“Oh, is that so?” Memphis quipped.
They started their walk, the dampness and darkness overtaking everything. Slowly, the room faded away, along with the Academy.
Brokk’s fingers trailed the walls, the weathered planks supporting the roof and sides from caving in. It had been a semi-formed tunnel, one that he had spent endless sleepless nights carving out. Working through his frustrations, his fears, his dreams. Holding those feelings close and heavy to his heart for years, Brokk had come to a realization: the men who ran the Academy were controlled by one factor - greed.
Brokk’s voice was absorbed into the density of the tunnel, just barely a whisper, “Have you ever seen the rest of Kiero?”
He could feel Memphis tense behind him. “No. Not since I came here.”
“Do you ever wonder why we are trapped here?”
His footfalls thudded behind him. A beat passed. And then another.
“Sometimes, I wonder if being trapped is an illusion. We could leave any day, but out there, in the world, I think in some aspects of it, we will always be trapped. Trapped in judgements and preconceived ideas of what happens at the Academy. Of who we are. People are afraid of the power we have; some see us as weapons. Cesan has just proven that point by destroying the capital, so the dream of the Academy hosting Kiero’s golden warriors is gone. Fear traps people, and there is no escaping that,” Memphis responded.
Brokk chewed his lower lip. “But that wasn’t our fault,”
“No? If the Academy didn’t exist, where would we be now?”
Brokk snapped, “That sounds like a declaration of someone who is giving up. I’m not saying that the foundation is wrong. I’m saying that it’s up to us to find out exactly what the intentions are now.”
“I’m not giving up,” Memphis said to Brokk’s back.
Smiling softly, Brokk replied, “There’s my stubborn friend.”
Continuing their climb, the moldy tunnel twisted softly and gradually. Brokk shifted his pack, his mind wandering with the possibilities.
“I remember the sea,” Memphis whispered suddenly.
Brokk stumbled but didn’t say anything. They didn’t talk about their past much.
“I remember the smell and the salt crusting on my skin. How the waves looked during a storm. How they looked when the sea was still, like glass. My dad and mom ran a small bakery on the outskirts of our town. I remember walking along the shoreline and thinking that there was nowhere else that I ever wanted to be. Even though I was young, I understood that much.” Memphis paused before continuing, “I feel like every word they threw at me that day is true. That I am a monster. That we are all monsters. That this school is just breeding madness to be a sharpened weapon, and now, it’s unleashed upon the world.”
Brokk stopped, turning to face his friend. “We are not the monsters. Cesan and his beliefs...he is the one proving your parents’ accusations true. But he doesn’t define us.”
Memphis started walking, brushing by him. “What? We’re suddenly the renegades? The dashing underdogs?”
Rolling his eyes, Brokk followed. “No, you prick. We are just utilizing our freewill of investigation. To find out exactly what is worth fighting for now.”
That got a true chuckle from Memphis, and he said, “I hope you’re right about this.”
“That’s the beauty of life, my friend, you will never know until you try, if it’s right or not.”
The ground started to elevate, coming to a small opening. Smiling wolfishly, Brokk slid ahead of Memphis, finding the worn handholds. Using his upper arms, he lifted himself up, scaling the rickety ladder with ease. One final lift and he pushed his shoulder through a rotting door, and moonlight greeted them.
Spilling out onto the grass, he helped Memphis up, and they were consumed.
The cool night breeze brushed against their skin, and Brokk took in the forest surrounding them. During the day, the forest was ordinary, bustling with life. But in these moments with dappling moonlight painting definition and obscure shadow, he believed that anything was possible. That maybe Stratton had found something about their world that had been long forgotten, hidden in darkness.
By the art of deduction, Brokk knew Stratton had placed the book there. On Gortach’s chapter, the old paper was blood stained and weathered, old notes scribbled in the side from years ago, initialed A.S.
Looking to the east, Brokk inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrow at Memphis. “Ready?”
“Lead the way.”
They started walking, heading for the heart of the woods. Whatever lay ahead, they had until dawn to find their answers.
***
The hours slipped by into the still night, and the moon climbed higher into the sky, illuminating their way. Sweat trickled down Brokk’s temple, and he whispered, “Okay, so according to this, to access the seer’s gateway, we present it with the blood of the questioner.”
Memphis paled, looking to him.
Steeling himself, Brokk flipped open a small knife from his jacket pocket. “Right,” he mumbled more to himself than Memphis.
Sucking in a breath, he stared at the blade’s edge. The sharpness of the weapon winked back at him, almost mockingly.
One. Two. Three...
It bit in hard, splitting his flesh. Blood welled and pooled as he hissed through his teeth as it dripped to the ground. The ground shuddered beneath them, and his blood absorbed into the earth.
Jumping back in surprise, they watched the trees bow before them, forming an intricate gateway, a blood red ruby adorned on top.
“It actually worked!” Memphis’s voice sounded distant and in shock.
The archway ground to a stop, and Brokk blinked hard, making sure he was seeing things correctly. Where a doorway should have been, the space remained empty, and singed edges revealed a cavernous room. The floor was jet black, and an odd ember floated a few yards in front of them, flaring with fiery hues before winking out.
“It seems Adair didn’t disappoint me.” The voice was deep and ancient, a dead calm making each word ripple with malice. Squinting into the darkness, Brokk saw nothing until two luminous silver eyes appeared, glaring back at them.
In his panic, everything seemingly slowed. Memphis lunged to his right, scrambling for his sword. The ground shook with the sheer force of the predator’s weight as it charged them. Ice gripped Brokk’s senses, and he was frozen, watching this creature emerge from the shadows.
“BROKK!”
Cursing, he dropped his pack, shifting in one motion. Only to see exactly what Gortach was. In this form, his heightened senses picked up what his human ones couldn’t. Everything was sharper to him in the night, maybe that’s part of the reason he preferred it to the daytime.
He took in Gortach’s sickly body, its strong and multiple limbs propelling it forward. Brokk noticed its rotting skin flying off in chunks as it ran. Snapping its razor-sharp teeth, Brokk recoiled from the smell that collided into him—the stench of death.
Howling, Brokk charged toward Memphis, and his friend ran, swinging himself onto his back as they took off into the night, maneuvering through the trees faster than Brokk thought possible. A roar sounded behind them, followed by the thunderous crack of splitting trees as the ancient creature tore after them.
“What did we do?!” Memphis yelled. Brokk could taste both of their fear as the same question coursed through him. Leaping over a fallen tree, the earth quaked, throwing his weight forward. Growling, he didn’t stop, fear flickering so many thoughts all at once but one seared through him.
Adair.
Snapping his teeth, he swiveled hard to the left, and Gortach suddenly appeared by their side. It lunged, missing them only by a hair width.
“It stopped!” Memphis shouted and twisted, looking behind him.
Flattening his ears flush against his skull, Brokk heard a ripple vibrate through the air. And the forest wen
t completely and utterly still.
One howl sliced through the night. Then another. And another.
His paws pounded against the forest floor, his nails digging into the earth and ripping away from it. A cold whipping wind suddenly battered against them, thick snowflakes sweeping through the trees.
Ducking, he couldn’t stop.
They had sought the truth and had unlocked another war just waiting for them. Snowflakes, dense and unyielding, continued to drop from the sky in masses, like diamonds.
“Snow? It’s the end of summer.” Memphis blinked against the magnitude of melting flakes hitting his skin. His hackles stood on end as Brokk heard the sound of footfalls from behind them. In his wolf form, he could feel the shudder of the earth, as whatever came for them drew closer.
Tree trunks started to crystalize and freeze around them as the temperature started to drop. The once earthy bark became smooth and encased, the glimmering surface blending in with the storm that transformed the night in a harsh winter landscape before their eyes. Everything around them became white. Brokk sniffed as deeply as he could, trying to pick up their scents to make sure they weren’t heading in a circle, going in the wrong direction.
He was met with nothing but the frozen tang of winter.
Slamming to a stop, he threw Memphis off, shifting back in a single motion.
“I’ve lost our scents. Also, that monster has unleashed an army behind us.”
Shit.
Memphis was immediately at his side. “We have to keep going, Brokk. Come. On.”
He took a step back, readying to shift again, but a solid sheet of ice formed in front of them, thick and impermeable. Brokk slammed to a stop, and the boys watched as the wall of ice flowed all around them, closing them in and reflecting their shocked faces back at them, distorted and gleaming.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 15
