Melt: (A TimeBend Novel - Book One)

by Ann Denton

  “Mama,” Blut gasped, through the pain.

  Mala felt tears slide down her face. What did I do? He's crying out for his mother. What did I do?

  “Mama, it hurts.” Blut squeezed her hand. “Make it stop. Mama, help me.” He stared up at her desperately.

  “I'm sorry. I had to,” she mumbled, choked by tears. I’m a murderer.

  His eyes shifted, seemed to come out of their daze. “Mama ...” he searched her face carefully, but she could only offer confusion.

  Mala didn't know what to say. It must be the poison—it's making him see things. She looked up to Lowe to confirm—and in that moment, failed to see Blut pull the knife from his belly and swing his arm ...

  With an inhuman growl, Lowe leapt from the thicket, hurling his entire body forward onto Blut. He grabbed the boy's feet and tugged him back just in time to prevent Blut from stabbing Mala in the chest.

  “Demon!” the boy screamed, but the movement was too much for him, and he gave a shuddering gasp. His limbs relaxed. Mala thought it was over.

  But as she swatted at her tears, she saw Blut’s skin bubble. She blinked. The skin on the edge of his face was undulating. She blinked again. And before her lay the bald-headed man from last night.

  That’s not possible. I—he’s not…

  She gasped and looked down further. Her legs were long poles, stick thin and white as the moon against the shredded remnants of her midnight dress. Her bare feet had toes long as fingers. As she stared at her feet, a lock of hair fell forward. It was golden yellow.

  Chapter Eight

  It's happened. It's finally happened. Mala covered her eyes with her foreign arms and let out a wail.

  “Mala?” Lowe reached toward her, his eyes wide.

  “Stay back!” Mala growled, as much as she could growl with this stranger's high-pitched voice. I don’t even sound like myself. I’m so far gone, I’m not even me.

  “Mala, calm down,” his hand barely brushed her shoulder before she backed away, stumbling out of the briars.

  “I knew this would happen someday,” she whispered. “I knew it. I just had this gut feeling. I was right.” I wish I wasn't.

  “What would happen?” he asked.

  Lowe's image wavered before her, an abstract blur of colors behind her tears. She laughed, a cracked, choked sound. “That was it. Look at me? But you can’t, right? Because I’m done. Insane. Completely. I killed that boy, and now ... I ... I'm ... this,” She ran her hands through her hair, which was now too soft, too light, free of the river of tangles that always bound up her brown mane.

  She ran her hands down her long arms, the whitest skin she’d ever seen. I’m cursed. Delusional. That was it. My breaking point. And that stupid spell didn’t do a thing to stop it.

  Her hands fumbled with her necklace. She pulled the series of hooks into her lap and fumbled them with her unfamiliar knobby fingers. She grabbed the hour hand and ripped it roughly off. She threw it as far as she could into the trees before collapsing on the ground. She sobbed into the dirt.

  Momma—I need you. I need you. Come back. I need you.

  Lowe waited until her crying quieted. And then he said the last thing on earth she expected to hear. “You haven't gone crazy.”

  Mala laughed brokenly. “That's exactly what my delusions would say.”

  He grabbed one of her hands before she could pull away. “I'm not a hallucination. You're not crazy.”

  “I’m seeing things that aren’t possible. I’m hearing things—my own voice doesn’t even sound like me. What other definition of crazy do you want?” Or cursed? But she didn’t say that word again.

  Lowe put a hand on either side of her face. “I can see it, too.”

  Mala’s stomach dropped. Is he telling the truth? Or just trying to get me to calm down? She clutched his arms. She studied his face. His blue eyes were soft and sincere. “What do you see, exactly?” A tremor of hope ran through her.

  “Well you’re blond, and really tall right now, probably taller than me—”

  “And Blut?”

  “What? Yeah. That he’s bald? That’s how he normally looks,” Lowe responded nonchalantly. He seemed to think of something and started muttering to himself, not realizing, Mala’s world was shaken to the core.

  He sees what I see. If he sees what I see, am I really crazy? Or… or is it magic? Was I right all along? Is it a curse?

  “… maybe there's some kind of relic nearby or ... who knows? Fell would know. I wish … well she’ll have a better idea than me.” Lowe was stroking her hair in absentminded fascination.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look at Blut,” Lowe pointed to the crumpled body. “You saw him as a kid, right? But he was really thirty-four.”

  “That's not possible.”

  “Not for typical humans, but it is for a Kreis.”

  “You're lying.”

  “Mala, look at me.” He held her gaze steadily, unwavering, until she felt her denial begin to waver, then topple. She glanced back at Blut. Magic.

  Lowe cleared his throat, “I don’t know how much you know. Most of this is protected intelligence. But there are people who talk. We know there are rumors …”

  Mala cocked her head, at a loss. “The government knows that there’s magic?”

  “What? No! Not at all. Let me explain … when the bomb went off, it destroyed most of the planet. It did more damage than the Sich thought it would when they set it off in the Last War. It warped time itself.” Lowe paused to let this idea seep in.

  “That sounds like flooding magic to me!” Indignation felt good after all the anxiety and sorrow that had been threatening to overwhelm her for the past twenty-four hours. Mala clung to it.

  Lowe sighed. “It is not magic. Erlenders believe in that junk ... magic and fortune-telling. That's not real. It's a bunch of fairy dust and lies strung together for idiots.”

  Mala stood, offended. “Excuse me? So I’m not crazy.” She gestured at her face. “This is not crazy, but I am an idiot?”

  Lowe grabbed her hand before she could take two steps. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're not an idiot. You don't know. It's just ... trying to explain this. It's so obvious to me because I've been Kreis for years. There are people who study the bomb’s effects and the Kreis mutation all day, every day. This is science. Those people would be far better at explaining. But I'll try.” He stared at her a moment to ensure he'd gotten her forgiveness—or at least, her attention.

  “All Kreis can change their appearance. Using their own body, of course. It’s an adaptation, see? Blut wanted to appear unthreatening. He wanted to have energy and endurance. He wanted to take us by surprise. That's why he chased us as a kid. He adapted for the hunt. Last night—I doubt you saw him—but he was with the Erlenders by the river.”

  Mala took a closer look at the bald man lying on the forest floor. She studied his profile, his clear, unmarked nose. Ice gripped her spine. It made its way through her insides and the air fled from her lungs. “He was the only man there without any tattoos.”

  Lowe jerked his head toward her in surprise. “I didn't think you'd notice that. We only saw him for a second—”

  “That was the man I tried to kill in the clearing last night.”

  She tried to reconcile the fact that the evil man from the attack was somehow dead in front of her. Was this Cherub? The man who'd sliced open Sari's cheek like it was a peach? She took two steps forward and stared down into his face. Pity shriveled up, guilt evaporated. It was the same man. It's too bad I killed him before I knew how much he deserved to die.

  Lowe watched her carefully, uncertain of her mood. When Mala finally turned to him, her face a mix of hesitance and curiosity, he looked relieved.

  “You’re saying all Kreis can change their age?”

  “Yes.”

  “You're Kreis.” She challenged him with her eyes.

  Lowe backed up through the briars until he was next to Blut's body. He stared down
for a second, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

  Mala blinked. His face wavered. And suddenly, before her, stood a four-year-old with messy black curls, his hands hidden in the folds of Lowe's shirt. He giggled. She gasped. Here was the giggling little acorn-thrower from the celebration. Her mind reeled. She felt dizzy.

  “What the—”

  “It's me, Mala,” the boy said, tilting his chubby face up to smile at her.

  It’s true! Or are you just hallucinating? Her mind was skeptical. But her heart believed Lowe. It rattled like a tin can in her chest. Like it was trying to jump out. Her breath shortened to gasps and her hands shook in time.

  “Oh, geez, don't have a heart attack. Give me a second and I'll melt back.” Lowe rolled his eyes in an expression far too sarcastic for a toddler. A second later, he was back: a tall and lanky twenty-something, adjusting his clothes.

  “What was that?” Mala spoke very slowly, trying to contain her fear. She took a step away from him, not quite sure whether she was in her right mind at the moment.

  “I melted,” Lowe shrugged. “Let's talk.” He sank down to the ground and crossed his ankles nonchalantly, as though shape-shifting was an everyday occurrence. He shredded a fallen leaf. It was a minute before Mala could hear his voice over the blood pounding in her ears.

  “Like I said before, you’re probably Kreis. What does that mean? That's a hard one. There are some theories floating around. Exposure to radiation, exposure to bomb relics, time dilation ... The most popular theory is that the bomb caused some genetic mutations that make absolute time irrelevant for some people.”

  “Meaning what?”

  Lowe tugged on her arm, and wouldn't relent until she sat down across from him. Mala watched as he slowly and deliberately dragged a finger through the sand between them.

  “Most people live their lives in a line. Time runs straight and narrow and constant for them. They are born, they grow up, they grow old, they die.” He waited for this to sink in. “Time isn't the same if you're Kreis. Your body doesn’t necessarily age in a straight line. You have some degree of control. It's more like ... this.” He drew a circle in the dirt above the line.

  Mala stared, but it didn't make sense. “I don't understand.”

  Lowe bit his lip trying to explain. “Kreis can melt in and out of different stages in their lives, shift their body’s—”

  “What?” This was beyond anything Mala had ever heard. “So magic, that's stupid Mala! But I believe in shape-shifting? That's what you're saying?” She shot Lowe a scathing look.

  There was silence as Lowe struggled. It was clear he had never had to explain the meaning of being Kreis before. “Kind of. We can shift within our own skin.”

  Mala looked at him blankly.

  Lowe sighed. “I’m bad at this. Let's use the adaptation theory. Being Kreis is like having wings or scales. An aspect of ourselves we can learn to control and manipulate to our advantage.”

  “So you can transform to any age you want?”

  “If you're trained.”

  “For as long as you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whenever you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you only look like yourself?”

  “That's right.”

  “But I don't look like me.”

  “No. And I'm not sure why.”

  “And you're saying I'm not crazy?”

  “If you are, then I am too,” he winked.

  “And you’re saying it’s not magic?”

  “Definitely not.”

  There was a long moment while Mala digested this information. She watched the wind tease the leaves from their branches. She listened to squirrels chirrup at each other and birds take flight nearby. These sounds were calming compared to the clamor in her head as she warred over whether to accept this revelation.

  But ultimately, she had no choice: she’d seen Lowe perform something impossible. She was seeing things that were impossible. And whatever he called it, he thought she could do the same. Hope murmured sweetly in her ears. Maybe I'm not crazy. Maybe it's not a curse. Maybe I'm ... powerful.

  She glanced at Blut. “Why’d he change back to his true age when he died?” she asked.

  “He had a meltdown. That’s what we call it when you can’t control yourself. You get overwhelmed by emotion and you just … change.” He muttered and bent over Blut. He patted the body down, emptied out the pant pockets, tossing aside bits of trash, some hooks, and a small necklace.

  “Souvenir?” He tossed it at her.

  Mala nudged the etched golden charm away with her foot, disgusted, knowing how Blut had gotten it. She cleared her throat, eager to suppress her memories. “So how old are you really?”

  Lowe grinned up at her. “As old as I want to be.”

  Mala rolled her eyes. “I get it. Okay? But if you were a normal guy ...”

  “I am normal.”

  “No, you're annoying.”

  “Well, annoying is a step up from being hated, Misanthrope, so I'll take it.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Lowe had started unbuttoning Blut's shirt, methodically running his hands over both the material and the body. “I'm checking for messages, intel. Just in case.”

  Mala closed her mouth, but couldn't fully hid her shock. Bara's guard always broke Erlender noses and raided pockets for ammunition. They had never been so meticulous. In fact, desecration had been more likely than a full-body search. Somehow the act elevated Lowe.

  “How come I've never heard of any of this? If people really can just change their age at the drop of a hook, why doesn't anyone know? All I've ever heard are stories of great warriors, that Kreis are the fiercest—”

  “How could we be good spies if we let everyone know our secrets? And besides, there’s not that many of us. You’ve never met a Kreis before, right?”

  Mala considered him for a moment. “Well, what about me?”

  “I don't know,” Lowe said, standing. He sighed. “We need to get you to the Center. Hopefully they'll have some answers.” He pulled out her knife and carefully cleaned it with Blut’s shirt.

  “The Center?”

  “Headquarters. And that's enough questions for now.”

  “That is not fair. I'm a murderer and a giant because of you and I don't get to know why?”

  “Technically, you killed in self-defense because a traitor assassin was after you. And you're a blonde beauty because of me,” Lowe countered, a gleam coming into his eye. “Though you weren't too bad before, either.” He gave her a crooked smile.

  Mala blushed but scolded him. “Don’t flirt to throw me off. Tell me how to change back.”

  “I can't.”

  “You've already told me this much, what will it hur—” Mala started but Lowe interrupted.

  “I literally am unable to tell you how to change back. It’s intuitive for most of us. You think about an age, you become it. But there are times, if you have a meltdown—if you’ve melted because of something really emotionally intense … you can get stuck for a while. You have to figure out how to get out of it yourself. There’s no easy solution.”

  “Well, great. So now I’m stork-girl, no end in sight?”

  “I think the Center will have some answers for you, once you’ve passed the test to prove you’re Kreis.” Lowe turned. “We should probably go, anyway. The Erlenders will be expecting Blut back. They'll come looking for him soon. And we won't want to be here.”

  He started tramping back down the way they'd come. When Mala made up her mind to follow, she had to run to keep up. But the ground was covered in leaves that slid every which way beneath her. Flailing her arms a bit to slow her downhill momentum on her long legs, Mala asked, “So, what's this test? At the Center? What are they going to make me do?”

  That made Lowe pull up short. He watched her awkwardly fail to stop running and bit back a laugh as Mala tripped and slid on her butt in front of him. He held out a hand to help
her up and a wicked grin bent his lips.

  “Do you really want to know what the test is?” he asked, not letting go of her hand.

  “Yes,” she breathed. She waited expectantly, but he seemed to enjoy drawing out her anticipation. “It's terrible, isn't it? Am I going to have to kill someone else?”

  “Worse,” he said, and he leaned towards her. His eyes locked with hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. Her stomach did a little flop and she felt a tingling in her palms. “The test,” he whispered, “is a kiss.”

  Then suddenly he whirled and was running down the trail, laughing loudly and leaving Mala utterly breathless and confused.

  Chapter Nine

  When Mala finally made her way down to the rocky beach an hour later, she could see Lowe had already started on a homemade raft. Several mismatched driftwood logs had been bound together and were floating on the water. A few more waited on the beach.

  “You made it,” he said. “I thought the birds might have gotten you.” He laughed and pulled severely on the makeshift twine, ensuring the logs were tightly lashed.

  “Where are you going?” Mala asked.

  “Um, we are going to the Center,” Lowe responded.

  Mala stood quietly for a moment. “I don't know if I can do that.”

  Lowe dropped the log he was binding and it fell with a thud onto his foot. “Ow!” He shoved it off and limped toward her. “What are you talking about?”

  She knotted her fingers and stared at them. “I don't think I can ... kill people. I don't think I can walk away from my life and just—”

  “What life?” Lowe exclaimed, his face incredulous.

  Mala's voice trembled and she held back memories that threatened to come forward. She swallowed before she spoke. “Bara's guard is the only—”

  “They're all dead, Mala! Every last one of them.”

  “You don't know that!” Mala raged, but cringed internally. “We never checked! I just ... swam away. Like I always do.” She could feel her throat getting tight from tears.