Текст книги "Fire Fall"

Автор книги: Bethany Frenette

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

The water was cold, much colder than I’d anticipated. I broke the surface with a gasp, remembering belatedly that these were the only pair of shorts I had with me, and now they were going to smell like algae and weeds and whatever else was growing at the bottom of the lake. I’d also lost one of my sandals. It floated to the surface, bobbing on the water beside me. I grabbed it and shoved it into my back pocket.

Leon paddled toward me. We weren’t deep enough in that his feet couldn’t touch the bottom, but he must have decided it would be faster to swim than to wade. I considered retreat, but while I hesitated, he reached me.

“If you’re planning to dunk me,” he said, “I’d advise against it. Can we continue this conversation on dry land?”

“So you can just ignore me again?” My teeth were chattering, but I gave him another mutinous look. “I made a mistake. And I lied to you. I knew who he was, and I knew what he did, and I lied to you. And I can’t take it back, so what do you want me to do? I’ve said I was sorry. How many times do you want me to say it? Do you want me to grovel? Beg?”

“No!”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know.”

I kicked through the water and started making my way to shore. Leon swam up beside me, water lapping around him. He caught my hand.

“I want you to understand,” he said.

“I do.”

“You don’t.” He drew in a ragged breath, not releasing my hand. Ripples chased out around us, glinting in the falling light. “I told you I hated my parents. But that’s…only part of it. I was angry for a long time. And I was horrible to my grandfather. He kept trying to explain it to me, to tell me stories about my mother, and how much she loved me. That’s why he kept taking me to the lake year after year, until I finally just started refusing.” Another pause. He lowered his gaze. “Then, when I was thirteen, I got so angry that I took all of his photo albums and burned them. Every picture.”

I stared at him. So that was why he didn’t have any photos of his parents. There weren’t any left.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “When my grandfather found out, he didn’t even punish me. He just—looked at me. But he stopped trying after that. He didn’t talk to me about my parents anymore. He never brought me to the lake again.”

I looked down into the water, at the waves sliding against us, at the space where our fingers met beneath the surface, distorted by the swell of the current. Leon had told me once that he didn’t think of his parents often. But that wasn’t true, I realized. And I’d been wrong to ever believe it. When I lifted my gaze to his now, I saw it. The hurt was there, in his eyes. Questions always forming in his mind. Who they had been. What they would have thought of him. He could never know them. He would never see their faces or hear them speak his name. Because Verrick had killed them.

I thought of him going out to his parents’ lake alone. He went there to think, he’d told me. I saw him taking his motorcycle and driving beneath the sweaty summer sky, the horizon thick with stars; I saw him heading to the park and sitting on the picnic tables that overlooked the water. He’d brought me there, when I’d first learned about the Kin. To make me feel better. To comfort me in the place that comforted him.

I didn’t know what to say—if there was anything to say. I just moved toward him, sliding my arms around him and laying my head against his chest.

He didn’t say he forgave me then, but I felt it. There was an easing in the way he stood, in the way he gently disengaged my arms, taking both of my hands and sliding them into his. When I looked up again, he was looking back down at me, and for once his face wasn’t inscrutable, but open, like it had always been this way, like he’d never been difficult to read. I wondered how it was that I’d missed these things before—that through the seriousness that lived in his eyes I could see that closed door and the boy who waited behind it, who was still waiting and probably always would be. I could see all the way up north if I looked hard enough, to the great blue empty of Lake Superior, and an angry, scrawny youth, all arms and legs, who raced across a track not to see how fast he could run but to find how far they would chase him. I could see the night he was called, a little light suddenly flaring within, and the way he fought against it hour after hour, week after week, until one day he finally got on his motorcycle and drove south, drove all the way to Minneapolis in the hot July evening to step through the grass and stand before me.

Now, around us, dusk was fast approaching. In a nearby cabin, someone had lit a fire. The air was warm and smoky. We moved out of the lake. Up past the dock and onto the grass, where the ground was cool underfoot, and insects were humming. By the time we reached the cabin, he was kissing me, his hands moving up under my shirt, peeling it off my wet skin.

“We should get into dry clothes,” he was saying, like that was the reason he’d tossed my shirt over my head, not even watching where it landed. His mouth made its way to my throat, and his hands fumbled with unbuttoning my shorts.

“Well, there’s a problem with that,” I said, excited and somewhat breathless.

He paused what he was doing in order to look at me. “Yeah?”

“These are the only pants I have.”

Leon didn’t reply. Laughing, he bent, hooked an elbow under my knees, and swung me up into his arms.

We lay facing each other, the last of the light from outside falling onto the sheet between us. Leon’s eyelids fluttered closed now and then, until I blew air on his face and he opened them again. The third time I did it, a smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re a brat,” he said.

“You’re a suck-up,” I countered.

“You’re a smartass.”

I would’ve replied, but he moved forward and sealed my mouth with a kiss.

I felt weightless lying there, speaking in hushed tones, like we were all alone in the world, in some separate space of the cosmos where nothing could reach us. No worries could intrude, no harsh reality that existed beyond the walls would steal its way in through the windows we’d left open. The air that hung around us was flecked with gold—never mind that it was only dust stirred up by the evening wind, which drifted through the cabin and brought the faint scent of the bonfire in with it. Leon laced his fingers through mine, and I looked at the knots of his knuckles, the puckered line of the scar that made a long jagged path down the back of his hand. His skin was warm, and when I slid my fingers down his wrist I could feel the steady beat of his pulse. I would be perfectly happy to never move again, I thought. I could just stay there, listening to Leon’s breathing and watching the dusk recede around us.

But we couldn’t stay there.

I knew that even as I closed my own eyes finally and we both drifted to sleep. I knew it when I woke in the morning, though my sleep had been dreamless and I’d spent the night with Leon’s arm curled around me.

That sense was there, the almost-Knowing, creeping in with the daylight that pooled across the bedspread and our tangled limbs. I felt it in every inhale and exhale. For a long moment, I looked at Leon, still asleep, his hair tousled, the trace of stubble darkening his jaw. Then I rose from the bed to check my phone.

No messages. No calls. No texts.

I tried calling Mom, then Tink, then Elspeth. None of them answered.

After he woke, Leon checked his phone, which was likewise empty of messages. “If they’re busy coordinating, they probably don’t have time to talk,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. His brow was furrowed, his eyes troubled.

When morning burned into afternoon and there’d been no communication, I went through my list of calls again, leaving messages that sounded slightly frantic even to my own ears. Next I tried calling my grandfather. When he didn’t answer either, I searched through my call log until I found Mr. Alvarez’s number, and listened to it ring and ring. Through voice mail, his words sounded thin and far away.

And every moment, that almost-Knowing grew louder. It spoke with Iris’s voice. Unless, of course, you’d rather the rest of us die so your friend can live, it accused.

They could be dying now, I thought.

They could be already dead.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then left the cabin and walked down to the dock, where Leon was sitting, staring out over the lake. I sat down beside him, removing my sandals and slipping my feet into the water. The chill sent a quick shiver up me.

He eyed me sideways. “We’re not going for another swim, are we?”

I didn’t answer right away. In the middle of the lake, the afternoon sun glinted off a boat drifting on the waves. A few ducks were idling near the reeds that grew along the shore. The sky was nearly empty, nothing but wide blue and a few wispy clouds like faint white brushstrokes. Finally, I turned to Leon and said in one long exhale: “We have to go back.” I was expecting a fight, so when he opened his mouth, I hurried to add, “Just hear me out.”

“I wasn’t going to argue,” he said quietly. “I was going to agree.”

It took me a second. “You agree?”

“Lucy shouldn’t have sent us away. And we shouldn’t have gone.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “Something’s wrong. I feel it.”

“You Know something?”

“Not exactly.” I paused, studying him a moment before speaking again. He was watching me expectantly. I sucked in a breath. It was time for my own confession. “I need to tell you something, and I need you not to comment at first, no matter how much you want to.”

His gaze turned cautious. “That’s promising.”

“Starting now.” I looked down at the lake, watching the ripples spread out as I moved my feet. Below the surface, the water was clear enough to see the sand, close enough that I could dive in and touch it and then kick away from the dock, swimming away from the words I didn’t want to speak. Instead, I gripped the edge of the dock with both hands. “Iris told me I need to kill Gideon. She said that the reason the Beneath is awake is because of what happened on Harlow Tower six months ago. Gideon—Verrick—is connected to the Astral Circle, and when I released its power, that…triggered something Beneath. The Circle is keeping it awake.”

He was silent a long moment before saying, “And that’s why it’s running loose across the Cities.”

I nodded again. “It’s gaining strength. She said the way to stop it is to cut the link between Gideon and the Circle.”

“By killing him.”

His voice was flat, without emotion. He’d told me he didn’t want revenge—and I didn’t think he did, precisely. But that didn’t mean he wanted Verrick to live, either.

“I was trying to think of an alternative,” I said softly.

“To save him.”

“Yes.” I took a breath. “It’s not about whether he deserves to be saved. It’s not about what he’s done. I know who he was. I’m not forgetting it. It’s just—what I need to do. I was thinking if I found some other way of breaking the connection with the Circle, then Gideon wouldn’t have to die. So we have to go back. I have to end it. I have to at least try.”

Leon’s words were almost a whisper. “And if you can’t break the connection?”

I kept my own voice steady, though my insides twisted and my heart was hammering. I met his gaze without flinching. “I’ll do what I have to.”

We took it by steps.

We’d decided to teleport instead of drive—Leon would return for Mom’s car later, provided we survived. He stood looking down at me a moment, setting his hands on my hips before gently tugging me toward him. Below us, the lake lapped at the dock, and somewhere nearby a bird was cooing. Everything here was calm. Open sky. The smell of wet sand and grass. But my entire body tingled, pinpricks of fear in my flesh.

Leon must have sensed my unease. “We don’t know what we’re going to find there,” he said. “It could be nothing is happening, and Lucy’s just going to try to send us away from the Circle again.”

“Something is happening,” I said.

“Then we have to be ready,” he said. “To fight.”

“I won’t hesitate.”

He nodded. His arms wrapped around me, pressing me tightly against him. I gripped his shirt and closed my eyes.

We blinked through emptiness into a wide field all yellow with dandelions, and then into a wooded area with pines stretching up overhead, thick branches blocking out the sun. Then again into a hayfield, and then again, until we were home.

I could feel the change immediately, the second we arrived in my house. Leon had brought us to the living room, where nothing looked wrong or out of place—there was the pale blue sofa with Gram’s needlepoint pillows, and the coffee table with its pile of coasters—but something had shifted subtly. Something was off-balance, askew. I didn’t hear the kick of the AC, but the room was freezing. That sickly sweet stench of corruption hung everywhere, and the breath I drew into my lungs felt both sticky and sharp, like the air had grown edges. I coughed, then sucked air in through my teeth. I took a step back from Leon and looked around, searching the semi-dark around us. The hall clock was ticking erratically. The ground beneath me was soggy, as though the room had been flooded, but when I bent down and ran my fingers along the carpet, the fibers were dry, cool to the touch.

Leon took two long strides and then stood in the living room doorway, calling out, “Lucy?”

I moved up beside him. “Mom!”

Silence answered us. I told myself not to panic. We’d agreed that we should try my house first, but there was no guarantee Mom would be there. If she was helping to coordinate with the Guardians, she could be anywhere. I waited, listening, but all I heard was that frantic ticking in the hall and a thin, high sound from outside.

“She’s not here,” I said.

“Something is.” Leon touched my arm, drawing me away from the door as he stepped through and peered up the dark stairs. “I can feel it.”

“No,” I said. I’d turned toward the entryway. Through the windows that flanked the front door, I could see my yard and the edge of the street. “Not here.”

I jerked the door open and stepped out into what should have been sunlight.

Leon came to stand beside me. Together, we gazed upward.

“What in the hell?” he breathed.

The sky was gray, but not with clouds. The color seemed to have been leeched out of it. When I searched the horizon, I saw the edge of blue here and there, but everywhere above us was the pale color of ash, like we’d stepped into a black-and-white film.

Or into the Beneath.

Above us, in the gloom, stars burned hot and red.

Goose bumps rose on my arms and neck. Now I recognized that keening sound all around us. I listened to it rise and fall, rise again. The city’s tornado sirens were going off.

I hurried down from the porch and took a few running steps until I reached the road, then stood on the sidewalk and searched down the block. The ground felt strange here, too, rough and uneven, and the grass on all the lawns was white-tipped, like it was slowly fading into gray scale. I pulled a leaf off the hedge beside me, rubbing it between my fingers. It flaked into ash, leaving a smear on my skin.

You’re going to die, Kin-child, a voice whispered into me. And then the far off sound of a laugh.

Panic surged. We were too late, my thoughts screamed. We should have returned sooner. The Beneath was no longer just seeping through, it was here, it was loose, twisting the city streets and turning everything to dust and decay. It was dragging the world back down into it. I felt it. I could taste it, that rancid tinge that curdled the air and stuck in my throat, nearly making me gag. I saw it in the winter chill that turned my every exhale to fog. I could sense the Beneath, its hostility and menace, in the stark gray sky above and the red shadows along the street, that sly hissing voice just out of hearing, the dread that choked me.

But no—that wasn’t wholly correct. I could still feel the Circle, too, my connection to it, like the drum of a heartbeat slightly out of sync with my own. The Beneath might have gained enough power to push through, but not entirely.

I spun to face the skyline, and when I looked, really looked, I could see it. The thin shine of the Circle’s power there, in the center of the city, where everything else was dark.

Leon had pulled out his phone. “No service.”

I fished mine out of my pocket and checked. “Me neither. I guess we know why no one was answering.”

“Lucy’s not here. We should get moving.”

I nodded. Our next plan was to try Harlow Tower downtown, where H&H Security had its main offices. Though there was no guarantee Mom would be there, either, someone there should at least have information on what the Guardians were planning—if they’d come up with a plan, anyway. I stepped toward Leon, and he set an arm about my waist, shifting me closer.

I waited for him to teleport, and when he didn’t, I glanced up to find him frowning.

He released his grip on me and moved backward. “Stay here a second.”

“Leon—”

He vanished, and I felt a split second of alarm, thinking he’d left me behind. But then he reappeared a short distance away, and came loping back to me, his frown deepening.

“I can’t teleport you,” he said.

I matched his expression. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s something wrong with my powers.”

The moment he spoke, I realized it. Not something. The Beneath. Kin powers didn’t work as well Beneath—I’d felt it when I’d been trapped there—and now that it had begun to leak through, it must be affecting the Guardians, acting as a veil.

“That’s bad,” I said. “That’s very bad.”

The Beneath escaping into the streets, gaining in strength. And the Guardians weakened.

I tried amplifying. I was able to do it, but though I felt the bond form between us, the quickening of heat in my blood, the connection was strained. I had to concentrate hard to maintain it, and it wasn’t as potent as it should’ve been.

And if Leon couldn’t teleport me—

“You’re not leaving me here,” I said.

“If I intended to do that, I wouldn’t have brought you in the first place,” he said. “Come on.”

Leon had left his motorcycle in the garage when he’d picked up Mom’s car, and now we took it downtown. I held tightly to Leon as we headed out of the driveway. I tried to slow the thrashing of my heart, but my mind was in chaos. This wasn’t just the end of the Kin, my thoughts whispered. This felt like the end of the world itself, like everything on the earth and beyond would be swallowed up and consumed—all the deserts and oceans and prairies, each forest and city, every inch of soil and molecule of oxygen and even the stars swirling out in the dark of the cosmos. Only the void would remain. Empty and infinite. I squeezed my eyes shut and clung tighter.

We avoided the freeway and took neighborhood streets, where up and down the blocks, people stood out in their driveways or on the sidewalks. Searching for the storm the tornado sirens were announcing, I guessed, or wondering where the sky had gone. Harrowers clouded the senses; I had no idea what the Beneath would do, if the entire population of the Cities was wandering about in a blank daze, or if they thought they’d fallen into a communal nightmare from which they couldn’t seem to wake. A nightmare that seemed to grow worse with every mile, every minute.

By the time we neared downtown, the sirens were blaring so loudly they sounded as though they were rising right up out of the ground. The streets were littered with dead birds. Leon had to swerve to avoid them, and then slow, as more and more of them tumbled out of the sky, plummeting down around us and blanketing the air with feathers. I closed my eyes again, trying not to see them. The red light pulsed out above us. The sirens wailed.

We didn’t make it to Harlow Tower. A few blocks away, we found the Guardians.

Some of them, at least. Leon brought us to a stop as soon as we reached them. The Guardians were clustered together, fighting. Ahead of us in the street, I saw the faint blur of colored lights glowing through skin. I saw bodies in motion, quick graceful strikes and evasions. Voices called out back and forth, shouting to be heard. I didn’t see Mom.

There were Harrowers all around them. I couldn’t count how many. Dozens, maybe. A writhing sea of silver pushing forward.

I began amplifying immediately. Diminished though the bond was, I felt it build in the space between Leon and me. His left arm was already shining in threads of orange, aqua, gold, pale violet. He glanced at me a moment, nodded, and then he was running. I ran with him, following his lead as he reached the Guardians and flung himself toward a Harrower.

We moved together, not speaking, communicating with action and instinct. I had to focus on sustaining the bond, but when a second demon lurched toward us, I thrust it backward. Leon’s hand caught a throat, tightening—but with his powers weakened, he couldn’t finish it. The demon broke free and staggered back, hissing. A Guardian I didn’t recognize caught the Harrower from behind, moving quickly to sever its spine. It slumped to the ground.

The second Harrower hurled itself at us once more, talons slashing. Leon spun, stepping in front of me, taking the blow with his shoulder before he shoved it aside. It sprawled onto the street and came up snarling. Leon parried, throwing it back again and again, and I moved up beside him. Together, we gripped its neck and snapped.

The third was stronger than the first two had been. It knocked Leon to the ground with such force that I felt the impact through the bond between us. Leon’s head rocked back. I let out a gasp of dismay. My concentration slipped. The link broke, and I struggled to reestablish it as the Harrower leaped toward Leon. But he rolled away and then teleported, coming up behind it. I felt the burn of the connection again, strength pulsing, and hurried to help. The demon kicked as we caught it, but I didn’t let my fingers loosen until its harsh rasping became a sigh and its body went slack.

A fourth Harrower watched me with its blank milky eyes. But it didn’t attack; it just hissed before retreating back into the hushed gloom of the city.

Leon and I were both panting by then. There were no more demons near us, but I whipped from side to side, searching. The Guardian who had helped us earlier was still fighting, but she killed the Harrower before we could assist. I shifted to face Leon.

There were rips in his shirt where the Harrower’s claws had raked down, and thin lines of blood welled up on his skin. Otherwise he looked uninjured.

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, and then frowned as he scrutinized me.

“I’m not hurt.” There was a scrape down my right forearm, but I hadn’t felt it at the time, and I could ignore it now. I’d lost my sandals at some point, and the ground was cold and rough under my feet. I shivered beneath my sweat, hugging my arms.

I turned again, taking in my surroundings. The end of the street was blocked with parked cars, and the windows of the buildings around us were dark. I wasn’t familiar with most of the Guardians I saw; they were the reinforcements from the other Circles, I guessed.

I wondered where all the people working downtown were, and hoped they were all hiding out in storms shelters and stairways. I didn’t want to consider the alternative—that they had simply been swallowed up by the empty, and even now were wandering some layer of the Beneath, aimless and afraid, adrift in the void. I searched briefly for movement behind the glass doors of a business but saw nothing. Above, the sky was a swirl of darkness, gray upon gray, and within it the baleful gleam of those stars shone out. I put a hand to my forehead, wiping away the chilled sweat. Then, blinking, I saw a flash of pale hair in a pixie cut.

“Tink!”

She was standing beside another Guardian, near the entrance to an alley. Her head was bowed, and her hands were braced against the side of a building, but she turned at the sound of her name. I ran toward her.

A Harrower reached her before I did.

It crept upward out of nothing, seeming to slide right out of the shadow of the building. The Guardian beside her cried out a warning, and Tink spun, lifting her left arm before her. She managed to protect her face and neck, but I saw its talons curve around her arm and sink in. She jerked backward, and then dropped down, ducking beneath its arm as it slashed toward her again.

A second Harrower launched itself at the other Guardian. Tink had been able to fight hers back, forcing it to retreat and pushing the attack, though she let out a shrill shriek as she did so. It fell to all fours and crawled sideways, baring red teeth. She grimaced as she held her arm out in front of her, shielding herself with the faint glow at her wrist. It leaped. Leon and I arrived just as she killed it. He turned to help the other Guardian, but movement in the alley behind caught my attention.

There was another Guardian there, fighting alone.

He was a short distance from us, half-hidden by the darkness of the alley. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew immediately that it was Mr. Alvarez. He either didn’t realize or didn’t care that his powers were weakened, because he was taking on two Harrowers by himself. And winning. He tossed one into the side of a building and then grabbed the other’s throat, its spine going red as he swung it upward and then brought it down with a quick crack. The other recovered and renewed its assault, but Mr. Alvarez was already spinning, catching the arm it sliced down at him and yanking it aside. A third demon was slinking toward him. I dashed into the alley, Tink close on my heels.

I came to a sudden halt when someone else grabbed the Harrower from behind and raised it bodily into the air. With one quick squeeze, he crushed the demon’s throat. It twitched and then went still, crumpling to the floor of the alley.

“Oh God,” Tink breathed.

Behind the demon’s broken form stood Gideon.