Текст книги "Fire Fall"

Автор книги: Bethany Frenette

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

The heavy rain had dwindled into a drizzle, and the road glistened as we drove. Down the block, all of the gutters were flooded. Stray leaves floated on the water, bobbing and spinning as they circled toward the drains. We turned the corner, heading toward the highway. My eyes locked on to Gideon’s house as we passed it. His father was seated on the porch, watching the rain. My throat constricted.

I turned my attention to Elspeth. She still hadn’t told me our destination. She kept her eyes directed ahead, toward the road, and her expression was blank. But I sensed a difference in her. The edge of anxiety that had clung to her for the past several months had lessened. I didn’t catch that hint of sadness that had weighted her every gesture. I’d never had trouble reading Elspeth—and I didn’t have trouble understanding now. I finally clued in.

“You’re taking me to see Iris.”

She flicked a glance toward me. “Don’t be mad. She just wants to talk to you.”

I couldn’t exactly scold her for harboring her own sister, when I’d spent the past three months hiding Gideon. But that didn’t mean I was happy about it, either. I crossed my arms, leaning back against the seat. “She couldn’t use the phone?”

“She said you’d hang up on her.”

Well, she was right about that. “We already talked. My answer was no.”

“Hear her out, please.”

“Do you know what she wants?” I asked.

Elspeth didn’t answer immediately. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Yes. She told me. Can we wait to talk about this until we get there?”

“She also said she wanted my mother dead. Did she tell you that?”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

I snorted, but I didn’t respond. We lapsed into silence. I watched the rain roll down the windshield. Beyond, the Minneapolis skyline was cloaked in gray. Headlights slashed through the thick haze of moisture that shrouded the highway. We crossed the river and passed downtown, and then Elspeth exited and turned onto a frontage road. She parked in the lot of a run-down motel and ducked out of the car.

I sat there a moment, surveying my surroundings dubiously. The sidewalk ahead was full of potted plants and cigarette butts. The huge sign that rose above the building was missing a letter, or at least a light, so that it declared BLUE LOON MOTE to all the passing vehicles. The blue loon itself was nowhere in sight. It was the sort of motel you see in horror films and crime shows, where the cops open up the ice bin and find a corpse stuffed inside. Or the sort of motel where fugitives hole up on their way out of the country, I thought.

“I guess Iris must feel right at home here,” I muttered, stepping out into the rain. Elspeth shot me a look. “How are you paying for this?” I asked as she led me toward room number five.

“Grandmother’s credit card.” She pushed open the door, peeking inside. “Iris?”

Iris was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, eating cheese pizza and watching television. The ragged gray sweater and frayed skirt were gone. She appeared to be dressed in Elspeth’s clothing—a pair of pajama shorts and a black T-shirt that were both big on her, since Elspeth was nearly seven inches taller, and six months Beneath had rendered Iris’s already thin frame scrawny. She looked healthier than the last time I saw her, I noted. And definitely cleaner. Her silver hair had been pulled away from her face, and the dirt was gone from under her fingernails. Though her face was still drawn and gaunt, her eyes were once again their normal brown-gold. That was something of a relief, even if I wasn’t exactly pleased to see her.

Elspeth flicked on a light, closing the door behind us. I walked across the room and seated myself at a chair near the window, while Elspeth pulled herself onto the bed beside Iris. I glanced around. There were a few pieces of luggage leaning against the wall, more of Elspeth’s clothing spilling out of them, and on the table were several items I recognized from Iris’s room in St. Paul. Elspeth must have brought her what remained of her belongings. I wondered if she really was planning to smuggle her out of the country—or at least out of the Circle.

Iris set her piece of pizza back in the box, closed the lid, and shoved it at Elspeth. “Here. Put on some weight.”

“It’s your fault she lost it,” I said.

“Audrey,” Elspeth sighed.

Iris twisted Patrick Tigue’s ring around her thumb for a moment before looking toward me. In the meager light from the hotel lamps, her eyes had a hard glitter. “You let Verrick get unsealed.”

“There was no let involved.”

“You were supposed to kill him.”

“No, you told me to kill him,” I said. The chair I sat on wasn’t upholstered, and the rim of the seat dug into my legs. I pushed the chair backward, against the window, where I could hear the rain slap against the glass. I met Iris’s look coolly. “I didn’t agree to it, if you remember.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I tell you the entire Kin is about to be annihilated and the only way to stop it is to kill Verrick, and you say no. What kind of stupid are you?”

“The kind that doesn’t believe you.”

“I spoke to Daniel,” Elspeth interjected. She’d set the pizza box aside and scooted across the bed so that her back touched the wall. A slender lock of black hair had come loose from her ponytail and curved around her jaw. “I asked him about Val’s visions, about the end of the Kin. He told me she didn’t just see one future. She saw two.” He’d apparently kept his belief that I was the one to determine it to himself, however, since Elspeth didn’t mention it. She just said, “It can be prevented, Audrey.”

I didn’t answer. The end of the Kin, I thought, remembering the night Drew had stood in my house and whispered the name of Valerie. He’d told us of Val’s vision, and for a moment everything had come to a standstill. I hadn’t just heard his words; I’d felt them. Physically. They’d frozen the air in my lungs. Images had played out before me: Harrowers clawing through city streets under a sky awash in crimson; shadows curling up from the earth; the Astral Circle bleeding into nothing. Everything dark.

But somehow, the words had lost their hold on me. “The end of the Kin,” I repeated. I clasped my elbows with my hands. Visions were often wrong, I reminded myself. Open to interpretation. And Val had seen a Harrowing; she hadn’t seen Gideon. Whatever future she’d witnessed, this wasn’t it. I hoped. “That isn’t going to happen,” I said.

“It is unless you stop Verrick,” Iris said.

I ignored her, turning an accusing glare on Elspeth. “You liked Gideon,” I said. “Remember? You danced with him at the Drought and Deluge.” If I closed my eyes, I could see it again—her blue dress, the smile she’d given him. “How can you just agree I should kill him?”

She looked away. “I didn’t know what he was.”

Iris gave one of her raspy laughs and smirked at her sister. “Guess it runs in the family.”

I ignored that, too. “What he is is my friend. My family. Would you kill Iris if Esther told you to?”

Elspeth raised her chin. “If the fate of the world depended on it.”

“First of all, no you wouldn’t,” I retorted. I knew Elspeth well enough to know that. “You wouldn’t be hiding Iris here and feeding her pizza if that were in any way true. And there is no fate. The future isn’t fixed.”

“Ugh. Don’t quote Grandmother,” Iris groaned. “Would you please use your brain, Audrey? You know what’s happening. You can feel it. The Beneath is gaining in power. Did you happen to notice the sky?”

“Yeah, it’s raining. Alert the media.”

“The stars. Red stars, Audrey.”

That got my attention. I remembered the crimson glow I’d seen in the night sky, the scattering of stars that had gleamed before my eyes and then abruptly vanished. I hadn’t imagined it, then. I hunched my shoulders. “I’ve seen them,” I said.

“The Beneath is leaking through. It’s getting closer and closer to breaching the Circle entirely. It’s been feeding off the Kin it kills. Gaining strength.”

“Feeding?” I repeated. “Like, taking their blood?” I grimaced. That was why it had swallowed Sonja, then. Collected her. Why there were no bodies left behind.

“The power in their blood,” Iris said, in a tone that said I should have somehow known that. “Kin blood still carries the power of the Old Race. A trace of it, at least. Guardians would be best, but right now it still seems to be picking easy targets. Those with the most Kin blood in their lineage. But it’s not going to do that forever. Right now, we still have a chance—but sooner or later, the Beneath is going to have enough power to send all of its Harrowers through, and then it will be the end of the Kin, and the future will be fixed. Unless you stop it.”

“This from the girl who told me she’d let the world burn,” I snapped. “Forgive me if I’m having a little trouble believing you’d care.”

“I told you I wouldn’t let it have my family.”

I crossed my arms. “You can’t just put this all on me.”

“It is on you. You’re the only one who can kill Verrick.”

“How? I’m not even a Guardian! I couldn’t fight him even if I wanted to, which I don’t. Fighting Harrowers by sharing their powers is your thing, not mine.” I’d done that once with Susannah, and I never wanted to do it again. Even now, months later, I still remembered what it had felt like—the chill of the Beneath seeping into my flesh, the way its corruption had crept up into me, whispering into my thoughts, the surge of hate I had felt bubble within.

“The Circle,” Iris said. “You used its power before.”

“I released its power. On you. I’m all out of flaming magic tricks.”

She leaned toward me, her thin hands tightly clasped. Once again, her voice came out like a hiss. “You’re both connected to it. You and Verrick. That’s how you can kill him. That’s what you have to do. The Beneath will go back to sleep, and all of this will end. Unless, of course, you’d rather the rest of us die so your friend can live.”

“I guess it runs in the family,” I shot back.

Elspeth slid off the bed and moved toward me. “Audrey—”

“No,” I said. “This all started because of her.” I looked at Iris, sitting there calm, in control, while Gideon was out there somewhere, alone in the city. I felt anger coil inside me, hot and heady, and let it burn. My mouth twisted. “Why don’t we do an exchange? How about this: We kill you, instead.”

Elspeth had reached my side. She grabbed my arm, but I yanked myself free, shoving her away.

Iris only seemed amused. “And that would accomplish…what, exactly?”

“It would save me having to listen to you, for a start.”

“You really think you could?”

“You really think I won’t?”

She met my gaze unflinching. “Yes.”

The trouble was, she was right. I’d struggled with killing Susannah. I’d hesitated when fighting a Harrower. As much as my anger fueled me, that was all it was—anger. I switched tactics. “Then you know there’s no way I would kill my best friend. Ever.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” said Elspeth.

Iris didn’t even glance at her sister. She kept her gaze pinned on me. “Fine. Let’s try math. I’ll keep it simple, since I know that’s not your best subject. We won’t count the thousands of Kin who will die if Verrick is allowed to live. We’ll use a smaller number. Four. I’ll even count them for you: Elspeth. That little blond girl. Your mother. Leon. You love them, too, don’t you?” Her eyes took on that hard glitter again. “Does your boyfriend know how hell-bent you are on protecting the demon that murdered his parents?”

That subject was still raw, painful, making my stomach knot. I heard the echo of Leon’s voice in my ears, telling me Gideon didn’t deserve to be saved. But I didn’t let it show. This was a knife I knew how to twist. I matched Iris’s tone. “I’d ask if yours knows what you’re up to—but, that’s right, he’s dead.”

She did flinch, then. I saw the words hit her, saw her recoil just slightly. A tremble moved through her. One of her hands made a fist. But instead of a ready retort, all she said was: “Weigh it, Audrey. Them or him.”

I rose to my feet. “I’m done listening to you. Are you going to drive me home, Elspeth, or should I call a cab?”

Elspeth looked between Iris and me, a troubled frown creasing her face. “I’ll take you.”

“This isn’t going to go away,” Iris said. “It’s going to get worse. You know that.”

I stepped outside and shut the door with a slam.

“You’re not going to tell Grandmother, are you?” Elspeth asked as she pulled up in front of my house.

I was still seething, all twisted up into knots. I fought the urge to lash out; it wasn’t Elspeth I was angry at. For all my resistance and denials, part of me wondered if Iris was right. The uncertainty was there, lurking in the darkest corner of my thoughts, a little voice I tried to drown out. I pushed it away, withdrew from it. No, I told myself. Even acknowledging the possibility felt like a betrayal. I shook my head slowly, deliberately, and found Elspeth still looking at me, awaiting my response. “I won’t tell,” I said. “Just…be careful. We don’t know what Iris is really after.”

“She’d never hurt me,” Elspeth said with quiet conviction.

Exactly what I’d said about Gideon and his family. The echo did nothing to improve my mood. “If you say so. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Wait,” Elspeth said. She reached to grab my arm, then seemed to think better of it. “Audrey, if it’s the only way to stop the Beneath, you have to consider it.”

“You may trust Iris, but I don’t. I can’t.”

Elspeth looked down at her hands. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

I started to respond, but Elspeth cut me off.

“The thing is—I thought I’d never see her again,” she continued. “For all these months, I thought she was dead. And part of me even thought it would be better if she was. So…I do understand, okay? I’m not lying to myself. I know what she did. I know who she is. I know what the Guardians will do to her once they find her. But she’s my sister.”

As simple as that.

Love changes the rules, I thought. For Elspeth, too.

“You don’t want to believe her,” she said. “That doesn’t mean she’s not right.”

“It doesn’t mean she is.” I leaned back into the seat, staring up at the roof. From outside, I heard the crash of thunder. “Even if I believed her…I wouldn’t even know how to begin to do what she’s talking about,” I said. In the months since I’d released the Astral Circle’s power, I had sensed my connection to it—but it didn’t go beyond connection. The feeling was tenuous and vague, something I didn’t fully understand. It was always there, at the edge of my consciousness, a heightened awareness. But nothing more. Whatever link I had to the Circle didn’t seem likely to help us. “There has to be another solution. A real solution. Mr. Alvarez said he was going to contact the elders at the other Circles and see if they had any ideas.” Before he’d decided to quit the Kin, anyway.

Elspeth hesitated. “Grandmother has been in touch with some of the other leaders, but nothing like this has ever happened before.”

“Can we at least agree that murder should be a last resort, not a first one?”

“I’m really sorry, Audrey,” she said, her voice catching.

I didn’t look at her. “Me, too.”

I climbed out of the car and hurried toward my house. Another downpour had begun, and I nearly slipped on the rain-slick grass that crept up around the walkway. Once inside, I kicked off my dripping sandals, then looked around the darkened house. Mom and Mickey had departed, though the faint smell of coffee still hung in the air of the kitchen.

Fatigue washed over me as I climbed the steps. My limbs felt heavy and drugged. I was just going to sink into my bed, I decided, curl up and pull the covers over my head. Maybe when I opened my eyes again, I’d find everything was somehow fixed. The Beneath would have released Shane’s body and withdrawn back behind the veil of the Circle. Gideon would return to himself. I wouldn’t have to worry about futures or visions or the end of the Kin, or whether or not I determined it. I trudged down the hall and pushed open the door to my room.

I knew he was there before I stepped inside.

Verrick. I had felt his presence often enough before to know it now. I had felt it within Mom’s memory, the night on Harlow Tower when I’d seen his face through her eyes, the malevolence within him. I’d felt it in my readings for the Remnant, that sensation of something watching me, searching as I searched. I’d felt it in my reading for Gideon, the cards almost burning against my fingertips. And I’d felt it that day of the baseball game, that moment when Verrick had briefly touched the surface.

He was here. In my house. In my room. In the dark.

I flicked on the overhead light.

“Gideon?”

He was sitting with his back to the wall, his knees drawn up against him. Rain trickled from his hair and clothing, soaking into the carpet. He looked wholly human, sunburn on his arms and face, no shine of silver showing through his flesh. The knuckles of his left hand were bloody. A thin trail of crimson rolled down his hand to the tips of his fingers, beading there a moment before falling. He was still dressed as he had been the last time I’d seen him. His T-shirt had a rip in the shoulder, but otherwise he looked no different. If I hadn’t sensed it, I might not have known.

He raised his head and his gaze met mine.

The color of his eyes hadn’t changed. It was still that deep, rich brown that was so familiar to me. But they weren’t Gideon’s eyes, either. I could see into them, through them, to the empty of Beneath. And beyond the Beneath, somehow. Impressions flashed through me, rapid and jarring. Fragments, visions, I wasn’t certain which—I saw birds wheeling above and then dropping like stones from a sky that was swollen and dark; I heard the sound of bones crunching, the sound of sirens; a scream and then a sigh. There was the thud of a heart. A throat sliced open, thick blood dripping onto a ground the chalky gray color of ash. All of that there, in his eyes. And rage, as well. An anger so intense it was blinding, choking.

I inched backward.

“Audrey,” he said.

I scanned the room quickly, noting details I’d missed at first. My window was broken. Two or three shards of glass still hung from the frame, but most were scattered across the floor. A bolt of lightning that streaked across the sky outside made the shards spark and flare like they were alive. Gideon hadn’t come here from Beneath, then; he’d climbed up the house. I glanced at the blood on his knuckles, the growing red stain on the carpet below. He noticed my gaze land there, then lifted his hand and sucked at the injury.

I stood there, divided. I wanted to run to him, to kneel beside him and wrap my arms around his thin shoulders; I wanted to flee in the other direction and never look back. In the end I did neither. I just kept watching him. As he huddled against the wall, I saw the quiet glow of the light that surrounded him. The Astral Circle’s light, pulsing faintly. It rippled into the air, warm and clear and familiar. I could feel the edge of its burn. The connection between us.

The way I could kill him, Iris had said.

I chased the thought away once more. There was a quiver in my voice as I said, “Your parents are really worried. Are you okay?”

He gazed up at me again. I had to force myself not to look away.

“You lied to me. You said I was Kin.” Though his words were strained, his tone anxious, his voice sounded the same. Like Gideon. His teeth started chattering. He clutched his knees tighter.

“I’m sorry, Gideon,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gideon never existed. He was just the skin I lived in.”

“That’s not true.”

The teeth chattering stopped. He smiled broadly. There was blood on his mouth from his split knuckle. The dimple in his cheek appeared, but a shiver crawled up my spine.

“If it were true,” I continued, trying not to show my apprehension, “why did you come here?”

“I came here to kill you.”

I flinched. I stared at him, and now it wasn’t what I saw in his eyes that caused horror to grip me—but what I feared he saw in mine. Perhaps he could see into me, the way I had seen into him. Into that flicker of doubt I carried, the tiniest fraction of the smallest of seconds when I had wondered to myself if I should kill him. That instant when I hadn’t been his friend.

“Why?” I whispered, the only word I could manage.

“You killed Brooke.”

“No—I didn’t.”

“Your Kin did.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“I don’t want your apologies. I want your death.”

But there was hesitation in his voice. I felt it. Clung to it. “You cared about Brooke,” I said. “I remember. You tried to comfort her after Miss Gustafson died. Verrick only wanted her power. Gideon loved her. You loved her.”

“I am Verrick, Audrey.”

The weary resignation in his tone frightened me almost more than the look in his eyes had.

“No,” I protested. “I saw Verrick. I saw Mom fight him. You’re different.” He spoke differently I realized. Not just his voice, but his words. The cadence. The slight hint of sadness in them. Though it wasn’t quite Gideon, it wasn’t quite Verrick, either. “The Circle changed you. It made you into something else.”

“You know the truth. That’s why you hid it from me.”

“If you’re here to kill me, why haven’t you? Why are you just sitting there? Why break into my room and wait? You wanted to talk to me. You want my help. Because we’re connected. We can figure it out, Gideon. We can find some way to fix it. I know we can. We just—”

Abruptly, he rose to his feet and walked toward me. The rest of my words died unspoken. He was no longer Gideon. Something within him had shifted, distorted. His entire posture changed. He no longer had that hint of a slouch that sometimes bent Gideon’s shoulders, and he didn’t have his long loping stride. He moved with a sleek animal grace, stalking forward, that bloody smile once again on his lips. But it wasn’t his motion that made my heart freeze and my throat close up; it was the malice that thickened all around him. His wrath seeped into the air, and the hate that coiled inside him burned so hot I was surprised it didn’t sear the ground where he stepped.

I remembered the first impression I’d had of Verrick—that if there was a hell, he’d surely crawled out of it.

Crawled out and carried it with him, I thought now.

But he wasn’t looking at me, I realized. He was looking past me.

I spun around and collided with Leon’s chest.

He wrapped an arm around me, holding me tightly to him. Face-first in his shirt, I squirmed, trying to wrench myself from his grasp. His arm didn’t loosen. But he didn’t teleport right away, either. In his left hand, I saw the flash of Guardian lights beginning to glow.

“No!” I said, feeling a stab of horror. I broke free long enough to turn toward Gideon, then Leon caught me again, clapping my back hard against his chest. His grip was firm and unyielding. “You can’t fight him!” I cried.

“I know you,” Gideon said, gazing at Leon. His tone had altered, too. There was a chill in it I recognized, and didn’t want to recognize.

“You should,” Leon answered. His own tone was clipped.

“You’ve known each other for years,” I said, still struggling in Leon’s hold.

Gideon was smiling again. That broad, vicious grin. The words were Verrick’s. “You want to ask me a question. You want to know how your parents died. You’ve wondered all this time, haven’t you? It’s the question you take with you into sleep. The worry that haunts your dreams. Would you like me to tell you?”

Leon tensed. He choked out one word. “No.”

“They died screaming.”

I felt Leon recoil, the hard slamming of his heart. I feared he was going to attack, but instead he lowered his left arm. The bright spin of lights under his skin dimmed. He tightened his grip on me.

He was going to teleport us.

“Leon, no—you can’t teleport me,” I said. “Leave me here. Let me talk with him. He was listening to me.”

“You are out of your mind,” he hissed in my ear.

“Don’t,” I said. I didn’t think. I started amplifying.

He froze. “Stop.”

“No. He hasn’t attacked. He isn’t going to hurt me. He wants my help. He needs my help.”

“If you weren’t in danger, I wouldn’t be here.”

His words stung, but I shook my head. I didn’t stop amplifying. I held to the bond, feeling the heat that coursed through my veins, the surge of strength.

“Dammit, Audrey!”

He wouldn’t do it, I told myself. He wouldn’t risk teleporting.

And then he blinked us out of my room, into nothing.