An Hour of Need

by Bella Forrest

“Is the portal within the compound itself?” Derek asked.

  “No,” my father replied. “It’s just behind it. Though I’m sure that this whole area from the fence onward is prohibited.”

  “Well, if the portal is outside, at least it will be easier to check it out,” Derek said.

  I wasn’t sure how any of this was relevant to our search for the antidote, but right now, it wasn’t like we had anything else to do other than see where this trail led. My father’s alternative suggestion had been for him to just hang around Chicago and wait for Atticus to return—but we had no idea when, or even if, that would happen. Or whether Atticus would still have the files accessible on his computer.

  Derek turned to Ibrahim. “Can you move us all closer?” he requested of the warlock.

  Ibrahim acquiesced, while Horatio transported himself. A couple of seconds later, we were standing on the other side of the cloud of smoke beneath a sparse line of trees.

  My father led us ten feet forward and circled a wide, round bush. A dark hole came into view amid the undergrowth. An abyss. I was sure that this was the widest that I had ever laid eyes on—wide enough to fit at least fifteen full-grown ogres, I figured.

  “I’m going to jump through first and see what’s on the other side,” my father said. He looked at us seriously. “Wait here until I return.”

  I held my breath as my father dove into the portal. He hurtled downward and quickly disappeared from view into the starry depths.

  When my father returned, only about a minute later, I couldn’t help but let out a breath. I was used to my father being the guinea pig for things—given that he was a fae, and arguably the least vulnerable of all of us due to the IBSI’s ignorance of the species—but that didn’t stop me from worrying about him.

  His expression was stricken with shock as he came zooming out of the hole and returned to us. He was oddly out of breath as he stammered:

  “It’s… It’s Aviary.”

  Grace

  Aviary.

  To say that place had played a significant role in my father’s history would be an understatement. He’d been kidnapped there as a baby, and that was where all his troubles had started—troubles that had plagued him in his later life, which were the reason he’d become a ghost to begin with, and why he was no longer in his vampire body, but that of a fae.

  No wonder he looked shaken.

  “Are you sure it was Aviary?” Grandma Sofia pressed.

  “Yes,” my father said, exhaling deeply. “I’d recognize that place in the dark. I’m sure of it. The wild, Jurassic jungle, the suffocating heat, the penetrating humidity… it’s Aviary.”

  “The Ageless was supposed to have closed all the portals to Aviary four decades ago,” Ibrahim muttered. “I guess there were some she wasn’t aware of.”

  “I didn’t venture far, obviously,” my father went on, “since I was barely gone a couple of minutes—but while I was gazing around I couldn’t miss a wide trail that had been made in the undergrowth, right by the other end of the portal. It was heading into the thick of the jungle.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Something tells me the IBSI has definitely set up some sort of base over there.”

  An IBSI base in Aviary. The concept left me unsettled. That the hunters’ organization of today, which was an entirely different animal to the one that had been controlled by Hawks in my great-grandfather Aiden’s time as a hunter, should come full circle and return here now… It was uncanny. Like it was returning to its roots, in a sense.

  “So the portal doesn’t emerge within an actual IBSI base on the other side—you’re sure of that, right?” my mother verified.

  “Yes,” my father replied.

  As we all fell quiet for several moments, I suspected that we were all thinking the same thing. We were all curious now to travel through the portal and see what the IBSI was really doing on the other side.

  If they did have a major setup there, this would not turn into another blitz like the League had inflicted on them in the Woodlands or The Trunchlands, of course. We weren’t equipped for such a task, and that wasn’t why we were here. Eradicating the IBSI from the supernatural dimension had dropped lower down on the League’s list of priorities after my nasty Bloodless surprise. If we made a trip there now, it would be done out of pure curiosity and investigation.

  “So… Do we go through?” Aiden posed. “What do you think, Derek?”

  My grandfather still appeared to be considering the matter deeply. “Well,” he said heavily, “a part of me is obviously reluctant to embark on what could very well turn into a wild-goose chase—a waste of our precious time, given Grace’s predicament. But another part of me can’t help but wonder if we were meant to stumble upon this. Frans’ address was right on this place’s doorstep…”

  My grandfather’s gut instinct mirrored my own. I moved to him and placed one hand over his, squeezing it. “Let’s go through, Grandpa.”

  My father heaved a sigh. I knew how much he hated Aviary—the place was traumatic for him. And in a way, it was traumatic for Derek, Sofia and Aiden, too, all of whom had a less than pleasant history with the place.

  Still, we all agreed.

  My father set his eyes on me. “The heat might be living hell for the rest of us over there, but at least it won’t be for you.”

  Grace

  In spite of my body’s innate coldness, even I could sense the sharp rise in temperature. Worryingly, however, I did not feel the urge to peel off even a single one of my thermal layers. This temperature just made me feel comfortable rather than jittery.

  Orlando, on the other hand, did remove his jacket. He slipped it down his shoulders and tied it firmly around his waist. I took this as a harrowing confirmation that I was further gone than him.

  Oh, God. We have got to figure out the antidote!

  Surrounding us was a world of gargantuan trees—trees that were identical to those the IBSI had been burning back on Bermuda and transporting to the beach. Their fluid-filled peach-colored leaves hung heavy from the sturdy branches, creating a thick canopy above us that let only the occasional sliver of sunlight through. This was an advantage for the vampires, at least. A low humming of insects filled my ears, punctuated by the squawk of a bird or the growl of an animal I’d rather not picture.

  I moved to the trunk closest to me and sniffed it. The bark emitted the same nutty smell I had noticed earlier, though it wasn’t sweet. I supposed the sweet odor had come from the burning leaves.

  As my father had already informed us, to our left was a wide track created by some kind of large machinery. Tanks, maybe even more tractors.

  “Construction noises,” Derek said. “You hear them?”

  The vampires among us nodded. We were without an invisibility spell now so that we could keep an eye on each other.

  “I guess let’s see where it leads,” Lucas said, already moving toward the track.

  My father gripped my hand firmly as our group trudged forward to follow Lucas. The path appeared to extend for miles in an almost perfect straight line, surrounded on either side by the pinkish trees. To speed up our progress, and to decrease the likelihood of getting impeded by some wild animal, Ibrahim transported us several miles up the track by magic. Here, I heard the noises my grandfather had been referring to. The trundling of heavy machinery. The creaking of boughs. The occasional yell of a man. And sawing. Lots of sawing.

  From here, I could just about make out the end of the track in the distance. It gave way to some kind of clearing, illuminated by sunlight. Magic transported us the rest of the way.

  Reaching the bottom of the path, we found ourselves gazing around a vast open space—larger than I could ever have expected. The ground was a graveyard of trees. They had been felled for miles and miles to our left and right. Black cranes, tractors, and other machinery equipped with giant saws were lined up at the far end of the clearing, directly opposite us, where the jungle of pinkish-leaved trees began again.

  I c
ounted ten caravans littering the flattened area, where armed men and women in black uniform were apparently taking shifts. Some held mugs and packets of food, while others spoke into communication devices.

  We backed up further into the shadows of the trees to avoid being noticed.

  “What is it about these trees?” I breathed.

  It was Orlando who answered. “You know,” he whispered, his dark eyes wide as he beheld the massacre, “I can’t help but think back to that shelf in Frans’ hut… There were quite a few books on botany, weren’t there?”

  I hardly dared to think about what Orlando was implying.

  Could it be? Could these trees have something to do with the antidote?

  Grace

  “Uh, we need to get out of the way,” Caleb said suddenly, looking behind us. I couldn’t see what he had noticed, but he had obviously heard something with his vampire ears.

  “Sounds like more hunters are coming through the portal,” my mother said.

  “Let’s head up into the trees,” Horatio suggested.

  Following Horatio’s lead, Ibrahim transported us up into the tree tops. He settled us down along a branch that was so large all of us could comfortably stand… Well, as comfortably as you could stand, like a hundred feet above the ground, while surrounded by creepy-crawlies and God knew what else.

  My aunt Rose had already spotted a monstrous spider, which just happened to be crawling near where she and Caleb had been planted. She clutched Caleb’s arm hard. Caleb smirked, pulling her to stand on the other side of him so that he acted as a barrier. As brave as Rose was, she was still a little girl when it came to spiders. And crabs.

  “Now we’re closer,” Ibrahim said beneath his breath, moving toward one of the squishy leaves surrounding us, “let’s check these out…”

  He slipped out a Swiss army knife from his pocket and sliced off a sliver of the leaf’s flesh. We all watched as the gooey substance within the leaf dribbled into Ibrahim’s cupped right hand. In texture, the substance wasn’t far off from the gel found in aloe vera, except this was tinged yellow and appeared more gooey.

  “D-Do you think there’s any way…” I began.

  My voice trailed off as I stared at Ibrahim disemboweling the chunk of leaf. He poured the remaining runny gel-like substance into his hand, separating it from the skin.

  He sniffed both the leaf and the fluid before replying, “I think it’s possible. I mean, the way those hunters are working down there, it looks like they’re trying to drive this tree into extinction. I do believe this species is native only to Aviary.”

  Although it would make sense, I still struggled to wrap my mind around how something so pedestrian as a tree could possibly have anything to do with curing the deadly Bloodless infection.

  “The thing is,” Ibrahim went on thoughtfully, “I’m not sure how we would test it. These leaves are obviously the most potent part of the tree, but they could very well be poisonous. I don’t know what kind of effect they could have on a person’s system.”

  I extended a hand to the yellow gel the warlock was holding.

  “May I touch it?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I dipped my finger into the substance—surprisingly cool—and brought it to my nose. Yes. This smelled sweet. An odd smell for something poisonous. I usually thought of poisonous things as bitter, sharp, or pungent to the nose in some way.

  Then again, I wasn’t exactly a botany professor.

  Horatio also broke off a chunk from one of the leaves and examined it. “Hm. I’m afraid I don’t have much to add to this conversation,” he said. “I’ve never come across this type of tree before in my life. This is the first time I’ve ever visited Aviary.”

  Being born into a family of jinn royalty, I supposed that Horatio would have had no reason to visit Aviary.

  I glanced back down at the film of yellow coating the tip of my forefinger. I was so tempted in that moment to taste it, to see what it did, if anything. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m dying anyway.

  “How about I try it?” Orlando spoke up behind me.

  I whirled on him. “Huh? You?”

  The rest of my family showed equal surprise.

  “Yes,” he replied, his jaw set. “Me. Given everything I’ve learned from you people since leaving Bloodless Chicago, I’m pretty damn sure that whatever those bastards did to me, I have some mild form of Bloodless DNA in my system that’s made me so sick. I mean, look at me.” His arms flanked his sides. “I even look like I’m in the process of turning, don’t I?”

  I bit down on my lower lip. Yes, he did. Though I didn’t have the first clue what the hunters were hoping to achieve by messing with Bloodless in their drug development. They were supposed to be developing a drug that enhanced a person’s strength and abilities, not turned them into sick, pale creatures like Orlando. Though, after witnessing Lawrence’s transformation on TV, they had obviously finally gotten something right…

  Before any of us could talk Orlando out of it, he reached out and tore off a chunk of leaf. He eyed it briefly before raising it to his lips and taking a bite. A bite. My insides squirmed as he chewed with an uncertain look on his face, then swallowed.

  I stood with bated breath, waiting for what, exactly, none of us knew. But as Orlando broke out into a violent coughing fit—so consuming that he lost his footing on the branch and slipped—this had clearly been a terrible idea. “Orlando!” I gasped as my arms instinctively shot out to grab hold of him, but missed. Horatio zoomed toward him and caught him before he could fall too far down the tree. The jinni lifted a choking Orlando back to our level and stretched him out on the bark. He and Ibrahim hurriedly knelt over him. Orlando had started to wheeze like he was suffocating.

  Ibrahim cursed, even as he flipped Orlando over so that he lay on his stomach. Then, without warning, Ibrahim levitated Orlando in the air and flipped him upside down. The warlock shook the young man vigorously, so vigorously I feared Orlando might even suffer a concussion. A retching sound blurted from Orlando’s throat, followed by a stream of puke (which a part of me couldn’t help but hope would land on a hunter’s head).

  Ibrahim continued to shake Orlando until it looked like he would start vomiting out his organs if he upchucked anymore. Then Ibrahim laid him back down on the branch before summoning a flask of water from his backpack. Ibrahim pried Orlando’s jaws open and filled his mouth to the brim with water. Orlando choked and spluttered, but as he slowly sat up, he was breathing.

  Orlando wheezed out a long breath.

  “Thankfully,” Ibrahim said, “I managed to catch most of it before it could travel too far into you.” The warlock grimaced and threw me a look. “So, Grace, I think we can safely conclude that these trees are poisonous.”

  My heart sank to my stomach. I returned my focus to Orlando. Poor guy. He was looking ill as death.

  “So you really got it all out of his system?” I asked Ibrahim worriedly.

  “There will still be traces of it, but it shouldn’t be a lethal amount. Orlando, you’re probably not going to be feeling too good for a while… It’s just a good thing you had a snack earlier, or it wouldn’t have been as easy to induce the vomiting.”

  Orlando’s face was uncharacteristically flushed, I guessed where the blood had flooded to his head.

  We all fell quiet, giving Orlando some moments of peace while he recovered. I found myself scrutinizing his face the whole time, watching the redness fade. After a couple of minutes, the blotchiness had gone, but bizarrely, he didn’t look as pale to me as before. Maybe I was just clinging to a desperate hope, and it was clouding my vision. I could’ve sworn, though, that his complexion had brightened a touch.

  “Hey, does anybody else notice this?” I called, narrowing my eyes on Orlando, still believing they were deceiving me.

  “What?” Orlando and several of my family asked at once.

  “He looks kind of… healthier?” I dared say.

  Orlando was imme
diately surrounded by everyone ogling him like he was a rare specimen.

  “Hm… Maybe just a little bit,” my mother replied. “But that could still be the effect of the blood going to his head from all the shaking Ibrahim gave him.”

  We waited another five to ten minutes, during which time we continued to observe Orlando, who looked rather awkward beneath everyone’s close scrutiny.

  I kept expecting every moment for the slight warmth in his skin to fade, and return to its former pallid, lackluster state. But it didn’t happen. Orlando was still pale, no doubt, but his complexion was closer to that of a naturally pale human than a… very unnaturally pale one.

  “You guys see what I’m seeing?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” Derek replied.

  Ibrahim’s forehead wrinkled in a deep set frown. “This is… curious. Curious indeed.”

  “Should I eat more of the stuff?” Orlando wondered, even as he looked sickened by the thought.

  “No,” Ibrahim replied quickly.

  “Why not?” Orlando asked.

  “Because it was killing you,” Ibrahim replied, exasperated. “I can now say with utmost certainty that this stuff is not supposed to be consumed neat. The effect it’s had on you is interesting, though—of course, we will have to see if it lasts longer than an hour… But if these trees really have something to do with the antidote, then I suspect they are part of a more complex recipe. These alone would kill you well before they ever cured you.”

  “How do you really know that for sure though?” Orlando pressed.

  Ibrahim widened his eyes. “Didn’t it feel like it was killing you?”

  “Yes,” Orlando admitted.

  Ibrahim blew out. “I mean,” he said, rubbing a palm over his forehead, “as I said, this is not a species of tree that I have experience with. But I know enough about medicine to conclude with ninety-nine percent certainty that if I hadn’t made you vomit when I did, you wouldn’t be sitting upright now. In other words, I don’t think it’s wise to risk it.”