Текст книги "Fire Fall"

Автор книги: Bethany Frenette

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

If I wanted information on sealing, there was only one place to go: the Kin elders.

That was something of an unsettling prospect. I didn’t know the elders well, and I would have preferred to keep it that way. Tink was terrified of them, and I didn’t blame her. You could feel their eyes whenever their gazes landed on you, and the looks they gave were so sharp, it felt as though they could see right under your skin and dissect you. I’d never felt at ease in their presence.

Not that I’d seen much of them. They mostly chose to keep to themselves. Esther was in charge of the day-to-day management of the Kin, and the elders were only consulted on matters deemed of high importance—or, as Tink had discovered, used to frighten reluctant Guardians into obedience. What they did with the rest of their time, I had no idea. I only hoped it didn’t involve ritual sacrifices.

But if I wanted to help Gideon, I would need to brave a meeting. And they were marginally less intimidating when encountered separately¸ so on Friday morning I called Sonja Reimes, the least alarming of the trio, and asked if I could stop by her house.

I’d spent the night coming up with a plan of what to say. A sequence of lies, really. I was curious, I would tell her—because of my father, and because of Iris. I simply wanted to know details of the sealing. What was involved, how it was done. For my own peace of mind, I would say. And hope her shrewd perception didn’t cut through to the truth.

I took Mom’s car and drove across town, parking a short distance down the road and making my slow way up toward her house as I tried to calm my shaky nerves.

But as I neared her door, I hesitated.

I thought of my father.

Seventeen years ago, he had become linked to Verrick, their lives—and their blood—bound inextricably. Sealing one had meant sealing the other. And so my father had given up everything in order to stop Verrick. He’d gone to the sealing willingly.

I thought of how he had looked when I’d met him. His image was fixed in my memory: a tall man, near forty, with dark hair that curled like mine and a dotting of freckles on the crooked bridge of his nose. I recalled how I had stood there before him, unable to speak. How the seconds had ticked past, and no flicker of awareness had entered his eyes, no trace of the boy he’d once been had shown in his expression. His voice had been kind but flat, empty of emotion. And though I’d reached out with my Knowing, the only sense I’d gotten from him had been a faint confusion, distant and ambiguous.

I wasn’t certain I’d be able to reverse whatever aspect of Verrick’s unsealing Iris had begun six months ago, but now another voice whispered into my thoughts. They were tied to each other still.

And if some part of Verrick was beginning to break through, it was possible my father was also.

I had felt a glimmer of him, that night on Harlow Tower. Just the slightest sense, at the edge of my perception. He was still there, somewhere. Hidden away.

Sealing one had meant sealing the other, I thought again.

The opposite was true as well. If Verrick became unsealed, so would my father. The sleeping heart would wake.

But Gideon would be lost in the process.

I closed my eyes. My father had made his own choice. Gideon was innocent in this. And he needed help.

Sonja’s house was a little yellow square at the end of the street, fringed with flower beds and a tall hedge that hid the yard from view. A lattice archway set between the bushes had vines of morning glories climbing skyward, and beyond it a path of red and brown brick, lined with marigolds, zigzagged its way to the door. The windows were dark, I saw, but Sonja had told me to just keep ringing the bell if she didn’t answer.

Halfway down the walkway, I paused again.

The front door was ajar.

The gap was slight, almost unnoticeable. It could’ve been eased open by the wind. Nothing else in the yard looked awry. No broken windows, nothing disturbed or out of place. The lawn was recently mowed, the smell of the grass mingling with the strong scent of the marigolds. A bumblebee was humming among the rosebushes tucked close to the house. The wind chime hanging nearby sent soft notes into the air. I retreated a few steps, gazing at the street around me. Everything was quiet, serene: a warm summer morning, sunlight filtering down between the passing clouds. A sleepy neighborhood just beginning to rouse.

But something stayed me. I lingered a moment, considering. I could ring the doorbell. I wouldn’t step inside—I’d seen enough horror films to know better than that—I’d just ring the doorbell and wait.

Or I could call Leon.

Mom had instructed me to call him if I felt anything amiss. The problem was, I wasn’t entirely certain I did. My Knowing was silent. If there was some menace here, it had slipped beneath my radar—I didn’t sense a threat, or even a change in temperature, the way I’d always felt a slight chill whenever I’d neared Susannah. There was just that door, the tiniest sliver of space between it and the frame. And calling Leon might require me to explain what I was doing here. Not to mention that it would be rather embarrassing if it turned out nothing was wrong, and Sonja was just sitting inside, playing solitaire and drinking iced tea.

I stared at the door.

I took a step forward.

And then I called Leon.

He had a shift at the bakery, but he hadn’t yet taken his morning break. I heard him tell his supervisor he was going for a quick walk down the street. A moment later he appeared in front of me, still wearing his apron, a faint dusting of flour in his hair.

Though I felt relief at seeing him, I also felt a bit self-conscious. The smile I gave him was wobbly. “Apologies in advance if this turns out to be a big waste of time, which is kind of what I’m hoping.”

He gripped one of my hands, swinging it between us. “It’s not a waste.”

“It’s probably nothing. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

“If it’s nothing, then I can be back well before anyone starts to miss me. And if it’s not, then we need to know.”

“You don’t think I’m being paranoid?”

“I find caution incredibly hot,” he teased.

I laughed. “You would.”

He grinned, dropping my hand. “On that note: stay here,” he said, and vanished.

“Leon!” I hissed into the empty air, crossing my arms and turning to face Sonja’s house.

So much for caution, I thought.

I tapped my foot against the brick of the walkway, listening to the wind chime and the traffic from down the street. I couldn’t see into the house at all, or get any sense of Leon’s movements. I was trying to think of precisely how I was going to explain sending him in to spy on an unsuspecting woman when, all at once, my senses began screaming.

It didn’t come just as Knowing. It was much stronger than that, like a physical blow almost. It filled my every perception, the open space around me, the air I breathed. It was the sudden taste of blood on my teeth, the odor of decay. My skin felt clammy, my throat dry. Around me, the marigolds appeared to droop on their stems. The roses wilted in the bushes, their petals dead and brown and crumbling; I blinked, and they were blooming once more, lush red and white, no hint of rot within them. Noises flashed through me—a cacophony, harsh and strident at first. I heard the screech of nails against a smooth surface and a long, thin wail rising. Then softer: a rustle of breeze, the flap of bird wings. From far off, the sound of a sob. And then a deep and terrible silence.

I had felt all of this before, somewhere. In some moment just out of memory. It was familiar, echoing. A dread that took root within and climbed inch by inch up my flesh, keeping me frozen where I stood.

And it wasn’t accidental, I realized. It wasn’t a glimmer of insight caught by chance. It was a message, something transmitted. Both warning and beckoning. Something here Knew me. Something here wanted me to Know.

Within the chaos of my senses, another thought surfaced. Leon.

He had gone into the house. And whatever it was that I felt—it was in there, waiting.

I found myself in motion and discovered that I was running, running toward the door, throwing it open, stepping inside without thought or direction. The house was dark and quiet, but I Knew where to go. Glass crunched underfoot as I hurried forward. My eyes adjusting to the gloom, picking out edges and angles: the corner of the wall, the arm of the sofa pushed askew. The blood I smelled now was real, not Knowing. Its coppery taste tinted the air. My pulse pounded in my ears.

Then I was there. It was a small room tucked in the back of the house, filled with bookshelves. Most of the books were on the floor when I entered, thick hardcover volumes and paperbacks scattered on a circular rug, others strewn haphazardly across the bare wooden floor. A teacup was smashed at my feet, broken into tiny shards of white porcelain with lilac-colored paint.

Sonja Reimes was dead.

She was crumpled near the far wall, soaked in blood. The only wound I saw was a long, ragged slash across her front, but I didn’t need to see any more than that. Her head was twisted at an awkward angle, her arms curled up against her chest. My stomach knotted. Nausea gripped me, and I fought against it. My gaze went to Leon.

He lay on his back a few feet from me, near a bookcase. Several of the books had spilled over him, and the shelf itself looked unsteady, as though it were about to topple. Like he’d been thrown against it. With considerable speed and force.

My hand went to my throat. I choked out his name.

I ran to him, kneeling and shoving the books aside as I searched for signs of injury. He was unconscious, but breathing. The only blood I saw was a trickle at the corner of his mouth. There was a glow of Guardian lights at his wrist and fingertips, faint but pulsing.

“Wake up,” I urged, shaking his shoulder gently. “We need to get out of here.”

Keeping one hand on him, I turned, scanning the room for the Harrower I knew had to be there.

All I saw was Shane.

He stood in the doorway, as though he’d followed me in. He stepped over the shattered teacup and moved to the wall across from me, leaning back against it and folding his arms. He wore the same green Drought and Deluge shirt he’d had on the last time I’d seen him—there was that smear of red paint—but it was torn down one shoulder now, three long gashes that caused the fabric to hang loose across his chest. His blond hair didn’t look perfectly tousled anymore; it just looked unkempt. He was watching me intently.

“Shane?” I asked, my voice a thin thread. My fingers tightened on Leon, shaking him once more. “What happened?”

Something flickered in Shane’s eyes. “We’ve met before.”

“Um, yeah.” I shifted slightly, my gaze sweeping the room. We appeared to be alone, but I didn’t trust that. Whatever was here hadn’t left. Though my Knowing was quieter now, it still hummed below my skin.

“I know you,” Shane said. “I’ve seen you. The dark star. The fire keeper. Your shine lit the way, but now it’s dim. Barely burning.”

His tone was strange, but his obscurity was at least familiar. “Great. Even more cryptic than usual. I thought you were leaving town. Did you See something here?”

“I Saw you. You’re going to open the circle.”

“Very helpful,” I said. Leon’s skin was warm beneath my fingertips; I could feel his pulse, the rise and fall of his breath, but he hadn’t stirred. I darted a glance toward Sonja’s body. My stomach roiled once more. “So you don’t know what happened?”

“I happened.”

Two words, and all the air left the room.

I stared at Shane. My mouth opened, shut. Opened again. “You did this,” I said dully. I floundered, struggling for coherent thought, but it slipped from my grasp. The information didn’t connect. All I could say was—“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

That was when I noticed his feet.

They were bare, as they had been at the Drought and Deluge. Bare, and wet with blood.

My entire body went cold.

He laughed. Not the friendly chuckle I was accustomed to, but a harsh, abrasive sound that felt like pins in my flesh. “Would you like a different answer? I will give you one: it was needful.” His head turned almost imperceptibly toward Sonja, but his gaze remained fixed on me. “She wanted to die. The hunger filled her. It was an ache—to touch the void, to taste that final gasp. Her crime cried out for answer. I satisfied its thirst.”

My mind was still spinning, trying to process. I watched him, seeing the crooked tilt to his lips, those green eyes that had so often gleamed with humor. There was no humor in them now. They reminded me of Susannah, of Tigue: smooth and empty, nothing but surface. A flaw in his human disguise.

I’m not like you, pet, Shane had told me once. I’m one of them. One of the monsters you see in your sleep.

Part of me hadn’t believed him.

He was neutral, I thought. He had helped us. I remembered that night in the alley outside the Drought and Deluge, when the world had disappeared all around me, until there was nothing but darkness and terror and the feel of my body falling. It was Shane who had caught me. His arms that had lifted me, his hands that had held me steady. He’d saved me, and he had saved Tink. He hadn’t needed to. He could have let us both die then. He could have let us bleed.

Susannah’s voice echoed in my ears. Her laughter rang. The beast within them sleeps, she taunted.

It wasn’t sleeping now.

But I needed time. I needed Leon to wake.

“Her crime? What crime?” I asked, slipping my arms between Leon’s so that I could lift him against me.

“The crime of your people. And others, more recent.” Shane’s lips curved upward again, more of a sneer than a smile. He hadn’t taken a step toward me, but somehow he seemed much nearer. “Deep down, you know. You’ve wondered. They were warned of its coming. Would they really let it walk the earth unguarded?”

“What are you talking about? It?”

“She. The echo. The thing that remains.”

“The Remnant,” I said.

“In ancient times, they gave it other words. It was known as a poison of the blood. That was how your elders saw it. And so they cut the Kin-child open and let the poison out. Now that’s all she is. Remains.”

Brooke’s face flashed before me, damp with tears. I shook my head, shoving the thought away. “The elders sealed her powers,” I said. “You know that. They sent her away from the Circle.”

“No. She is with the worms. She is rotting in the ground. She is beyond my reach. But you aren’t. They would have killed you, had they known.”

I was afraid then, really afraid. Afraid in a way that surged past dread, cut deeper than panic. This fear had teeth. It sank them into my skin and didn’t let go. My stomach heaved. I couldn’t seem to draw breath.

Shane’s smile widened, gleaming red. His tone was cold as the Beneath. “You fear, and rightly. You feel it. The chill in those brittle sticks that you name bones. The quickening of the meat that pumps life into your cells. You are a corpse taking air.”

A sudden stench filled my nostrils. Near the wall, Sonja’s body had begun to decay. Under the sticky glaze of blood that covered her, congealing, her skin began to bloat, turning mottled and gray. Wisps of shadow curled up around her, thickening. They wrapped her ankles and thighs, the red mess of her torso, the terrible angle of her neck. The Beneath, I thought wildly. It was drawing her into it, collecting her. Feeding. Like she was a Harrower.

Shane was still watching me. “You are going to die, Kin-child. Just not today.”

And then his gaze flicked to Leon.

Horror flooded me as I realized his intent. I wrapped my arms around Leon’s chest, still trying to lift him. “Wake up, please, you have to wake up,” I begged, clutching at him, holding him tight against me. I began to amplify, hoping to accelerate his healing the way I once had with my mother. But my agitation made it difficult to concentrate—and however fast his healing was, it wouldn’t be fast enough. He didn’t rouse. His body lay slack in my arms, his head against my shoulder. The glow in his fingers brightened, but his eyes didn’t open.

Shane walked toward us, leaving bloody footprints with every step.

He meant to kill Leon, I knew.

He was going to kill Leon.

And he was much stronger than I’d known, stronger than any of us had ever imagined. He’d incapacitated Leon in a matter of seconds. He’d torn Sonja open and given her to the Beneath. I couldn’t hope to fight him, even sharing Leon’s powers. It wasn’t just fear, it was fact. Inescapable truth, strident inside me. Shane would attack. Leon would die. I couldn’t hope to stop it. I couldn’t hope to save him.

“Please,” I whispered again. My hands were shaking, my teeth chattering. I tightened my grip on Leon. His back was heavy against me, weighing us both down. I felt his heart. I felt the burn of the bond between us, erratic but growing stronger. I felt the surge of power in my veins. Guardian powers. Leon’s powers. Desperately, I squeezed my eyes shut.

How do you Know?

Like breathing, I thought.

You just have to do it.

Blindly, I reached out—and teleported.

Darkness enveloped me. All senses fled. There was no cold in this darkness, no heat. There was no sound or smell, not even the feel of Leon in my arms or the thud of his heart against me. The universe contracted into pinpoints. As the void expanded and seconds elapsed, I had the sudden, terrible thought that we would be trapped forever in some formless in-between, a black hole that offered no escape. Or that we would reappear under the earth. Our lungs would fill up with soil. Roots would twine all around us, crunching our bones.

And then the dark receded. Then there was daylight: warm sun above, half-hidden by the motion of heavy gray clouds. There was grass beneath us, short spikes that jutted up through my open fingers as I groped toward the ground, feeling it solid and safe under my hands.

With one arm still curled around Leon, I felt for his pulse, and then looked about, trying to make sense of our surroundings. A young girl, no more than three or four, stood a short distance away, plucking dandelions out of the grass. Her mouth dropped open when she saw us. She gave a little squeak, letting her bouquet fall from her hands, and went galloping away. Beyond, I saw the beginnings of a sandy path that led toward a beach. Red picnic tables were clustered nearby, paint peeling here and there, revealing the scuffed wood underneath. Far away I could see the glint of sunlight on cars and the dark tar of a parking lot.

Warner Lake. Leon had brought me here before. He came here to think, he’d said, because his parents had been fond of the area. Later, he’d told me this was where they’d been married—down on the beach, near the water, at the end of one scorching summer after they’d been dating three weeks. Since my own parents had been together something like six years without ever marrying, I’d found that funny. Now, I wasn’t certain if it was some inner compass of Leon’s that had directed us here, or if I’d done it myself—I was just glad we’d survived. Gradually, my panic began to ease.

“Leon,” I said again, stroking his hair. His eyelids flickered, but he didn’t wake. He murmured something, not quite a word. I felt dampness on my face and realized I was crying. I took long breaths, trying to slow the slamming of my heart. I could still taste the tang of blood in my mouth. I thought for an instant that the scene we’d fled had somehow followed us—some trace of the atmosphere, maybe, or Sonja’s body, drawn back up from Beneath—and then realized that I’d bitten the inside of my lip. My hands were trembling as I pulled out my phone. It took three tries before I got it to dial.

First I called for an ambulance. Then I called my mother.

She answered on the second ring, her voice muffled and groggy from sleep.

My words came out in a rush, so tangled I wasn’t even certain what I was saying. “You need to warn the Guardians. You need to find Shane. He’s not neutral any more. He’s dangerous. He killed Sonja Reimes. He hurt Leon.”

Mom’s lethargy vanished. “Where are you? Are you okay? Is Leon okay?”

“We’re at Warner Lake. I don’t know. He’s breathing on his own, but he hasn’t woken up.” My voice came steadier now. Leon began to stir slightly, and his fingers grazed mine. A light drizzle had started, matting my hair against my head. Overhead, clouds hid the sun, turning the sky dismal and gray. The raindrops that spread across Leon’s clothing hung in the little curls of his hair.

“I’m coming to get you,” Mom said.

“You don’t have a car. It’s at Sonja’s. But you need to tell the Guardians about Shane.”

“Audrey,” Leon murmured.

“He’s awake,” I said into the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

Leon struggled to sit. He was clearly disoriented, but the relief I felt at seeing him awake made me cry again.

“How did we get here?” he asked, shifting in my arms and looking around.

I didn’t release my hold on him. “I’ll tell you later.” Wrapping both arms around him once more, I molded myself to him, pressing my face against his back. I felt the damp fabric of his shirt against my cheek, the warmth of his skin, the solid muscle beneath. I closed my eyes and breathed in the faint earthworm smell of the rain.

Though only the little girl had noticed our arrival, our presence didn’t go unnoticed when the ambulance arrived. We had a small crowd gathered around us as the EMTs tried to usher Leon into the vehicle. He insisted that he was fine and a trip to the emergency room wasn’t necessary, but since his speech was sluggish and he was still having trouble focusing, we eventually managed to coax him into the back of the ambulance. I sat beside him, gripping his hand, while I explained to the emergency workers that I hadn’t seen what had happened, and Leon claimed he couldn’t remember. I wasn’t certain whether that was true or not, but until we were alone, I had no way of asking.

Mom called several times and finally agreed to meet us at the hospital, where it was discovered that Leon had three cracked ribs and a concussion. He was released after a few tests, with instructions to return immediately if his condition worsened. Leon was impatient to leave. He’d called the bakery to let them know he’d been in a minor accident, and now that his confusion had faded, I could tell he was anxious for answers.

I wanted answers of my own. I couldn’t stop seeing Sonja being dragged Beneath, or the look in Shane’s eyes as he’d stepped toward us.

You are going to die, Kin-child.

The phrase stuck in my mind. Froze there, touching something familiar, half-forgotten. Words I had heard before, if only I could recall where. But the memory eluded me. It slithered away, leaving only the faint certainty that I was holding a puzzle with a missing piece.

Mom spent most of our time at the hospital—and the drive home—making calls. Her face was grim as she spoke into the phone, her body tense. Instead of depositing Leon at his own apartment, she brought him back to our house and made him lie on the couch.

Then she told us what she’d learned.

“Ryan checked the Drought and Deluge.”

“Alone?” I asked. Leader of the Guardians or not, I didn’t think Mr. Alvarez would be able to handle Shane. Leon had been injured in a matter of seconds—and Leon could teleport.

“I think he feels responsible,” Mom said. “He believed Shane was neutral. He trusted him.”

So had I, but I kept my silence.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mom continued. “The club was deserted. Ryan says the whole place was trashed. There wasn’t any trace of Shane.”

“You think he’s Beneath?”

“Likely. But we’ll have someone watching the club, in case.”

If he did resurface, I thought, mere surveillance wasn’t going to be much help. His voice whispered into me.

You are a corpse taking air.

I shuddered.

The news only got worse from there. The other two elders, Deirdre and Julia, were missing.

I shook my head, feeling strangely hollow. “They’re not missing. They’re dead.”

Mom frowned. “We don’t know that, honey.”

“They’re dead,” I repeated. “He killed them, and he took their bodies Beneath. We won’t find them.”

She dragged a hand through her hair. “I want you to stay here with Leon. You should be safe, but if you sense anything—anything—the two of you teleport first, and question it later. I need to go take care of a few things.”

“You have a plan?” I asked.

Her expression turned hard. “Simple. Find Shane. Kill him.”

“Be careful, okay? He’s a lot more powerful than we knew.”

She pulled me in for a hug, kissed the top of my head. “Try not to worry.”

As though that were in any way possible.

After she left, I turned to find Leon looking at me.

His face was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair had dried oddly, curling and clumping. A few blades of grass still clung to his shirt, and his tie was a complete disaster. I bent down to straighten it for him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Alive,” he said. He caught my hand, folding it in his. His words were soft. “Thanks to you.”

“That’s how it works,” I said. “Remember?”

“I remember.” He drew in a breath. “You teleported.”

“I didn’t have a whole lot of choice. And I have no plans to do it again, so can we please not argue about it right now?”

His gaze flicked away. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone in there alone. It was careless. I endangered myself”—his face contorted—“and I endangered you.”

“You didn’t know,” I whispered. I climbed up onto the couch, curling myself beside him, careful not to hurt his ribs. I pictured Shane’s face, the red curve of his smile. I lay my head against Leon’s shoulder. “None of us did.”