“And now it’s even more ruined,” Quinn says, wrinkling her nose. Her face is tear-stained, and her eyes are bloodshot. She sees me looking and scowls, turns away.
I look at the others. Esther’s face is screwed tight with pain. Still no baby.
I rub the back of my head, look for Taras. It takes me a moment to find him. He’s sitting up, grimacing. He looks even older, like he’s impossibly old now.
I cross over to him. His eyes look red, but when he sees me, they darken.
“Viktoriya’s dead. I can feel it.”
Dead.
Next to him, Marina stills until she’s like a statue, frozen. I stare at Taras, at the dimness in his eyes, like someone’s placed a film over them.
“No, she’s not.” I shake my head, as if it will make it true. But she has to still be alive, doesn’t she? “We will find her. Come on, we need to start searching. If we split up again, we can cover more ground quickly.”
The others start to stand up, apart from Esther and Taras. Corin moves to my side.
“Hey, do we still exist before?” Elf asks. “A week ago… That’s when we were with the Stone Seers. Is that all happening now too?”
Taras turns his head. His right hand is against his leg, and I watch as it shakes. “There may be two of each of us in this world at this current point.”
My eyes widen. “We’re still with the Stone Seers? They’re still alive?” I haven’t killed them. Not yet. My head spins, feels horrible. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.
Siora looks at me, and she touches the base of her neck. No, not her neck. Jewelry of some sort. I can see the beads. Black beads. “You can’t change that though.” She glances at Quinn. “Our mother knows a lot about time-manipulation Seer powers, and she warned that the past must not be changed or interfered with, even when timelines are folding. She said if you see yourself, your first self would act differently and the future would change, potentially rewriting your current existence. The past has to stay the same. You have to carry on as if time isn’t folding.”
“Of course,” Taras says. He stands up, with help from Elf and Marina. “Time is a fragile thing. It may be that any injuries we got then will spontaneously appear on our bodies as they happen there, with the exception of Seven, of course. Or we could be writing a new narrative within the same time, one that overlaps and co-exists in the same time as the original one. I will consult with Marta’s Lore on this. So much is speculation, trying to make sense of this changing world.” He rubs his hands together, and I frown, blink several times. This is confusing.
“Okay, well, we can talk about this later. We need to find Viktoriya now.”
Esther groans. “Not now, Seven. Now you need to bloody help me.”
“I can’t do anything,” I say, and I feel bad saying the words.
“We will be with you,” Dominika says. She indicates Marina, but the taller woman’s still frozen. I see the tears in her eyes, and she mouths Viktoriya’s name at me.
Corin touches my arm. “We also need to check in case there are any Enhanced here.”
I nod, but I can feel it’s safe. The bison—I trust him. He’s not like the spirits, he’s always on our side. Has to be. But he’s disappeared. No sign of him now.
We split into pairs. There isn’t the same sense of danger, heavy and lingering, waiting in the air now. It’s calm, warm, pleasantly so.
I frown as I think of the Dark Void warning that Elf, Taras, and I had—the one showing this town.
It wasn’t a warning.
It was showing us what to aim for.
The Dark Void works differently to the Dream Land. I look down at my right foot. I’ve still got Dominika’s boots on, but for a second, I see through the leather and fur, see my injured foot. I glance back at her, see she’s got foot-wraps on. They had a spare pair? Or they found some here?
Marina, Taras, and Melissa’s healer stay with Esther in the barn, give instructions to the rest of us to see if there’s a more suitable room for her, somewhere more comfortable, as we search for Viktoriya in our pairs.
None of the stone town looks habitable. The few buildings that are still standing are worn, largely taken over by plants and damp. Insects hide in the crevices between the stone bricks, and I find a dead rat in more than one room.
The town itself is in a rough semi-circle formation against a huge mountain cliff, and Corin and I pass one courtyard—the stones uneven and spaced out in a strange pattern—between what must’ve been two buildings. Now it’s just a huddle of rubble.
I hope no one’s under there. I gulp. If Viktoriya is trapped somewhere, how will we know? My powers aren’t telling me anything.
“I don’t like this.” Corin’s voice is low, and he touches my upper back gently. We step over broken stones and roof tiles. “All this time-travel stuff. How can there be two of us? And why’s Esther got to give birth again?” He glances at me. “You’re really not doing it? It must be Raleigh using your powers?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s Raleigh. Or Taras is wrong, and it has happened to the whole world. Not just us….”
Corin frowns. “If it’s happened to everyone, someone’s going to see themselves. Siora said her mother said that couldn’t happen without really bad effects. And Taras doesn’t think it’s the whole world. Your body is still the same.”
I press my lips together, wish I knew more about it. Wish Siora and Quinn’s mother was here. “If it’s only happened to us, and we’re protected by the spirits, then that means we’re safe. We’re in a pocket of time, in a timeline a week behind what the Enhanced are in. We’ll have just disappeared, from their point of view, right?”
A dull taste spreads across the roof of my mouth. Raleigh wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t hide us somewhere he can’t find us, somewhere the Enhanced can’t get to us. Could this be down to me, subconsciously, using a power I’m not even aware I have? But there’s so much power in me, in the Sarr bank, so much I don’t know, don’t understand. It could even be another Sarr in me wielding the power herself. Or himself. Could they do that without me knowing? I frown. When a Sarr guided me to the Origin Cave, I was aware of it. And this, I’m not.
Corin shrugs. “It still feels like a trap. Like we’ve been caught. I’m sure being here—in a town—isn’t a good idea, that there’ll be Enhanced about.”
“The bison said it’s okay.” But I tighten my grip on the Glock as I look around. Just because there are no Enhanced, doesn’t mean we’re not facing danger. The spirits are still out there, and they’re unpredictable.
I shield my eyes as we step around the next building. It’s got a wooden frame and half of it is still standing. Bright sunrays twist around its broken form. Above, I can still make out the shapes of the spirits in the bright light, for as far as I can see, until the edges of the forest around us block them from sight. But I know they’re still there. I can feel them. They’re surrounding the settlement on all sides, and above, creating a dome that includes part of the forest, the mountainside. Protection.
To my right, a bird calls. It’s a sound I don’t recognize, and it reminds me just how unfamiliar this land is. The closest I’ve been to this is the rainforest around the Zharat den, but most of the plants here are different, ones I don’t know.
“The Enhanced could still find us though,” Corin says. “Any of them can see the mass of spirits, and they’ll be suspicious. They’ll know we’re here. Spirits don’t normally act like this.”
I tense my shoulders. He’s right. “It’ll be okay.”
Will it?
I swallow hard and concentrate on looking around. Looking for movement.
We approach the next building. Half of one of its walls has fallen, uprooting a tall, thin tree in the process, but the inside looks pretty good. My eyes scan the fallen bricks and stones, looking for an arm, a leg.
But I can’t see anything. My chest tightens, and I curse.
“What is it?” Corin turns to me.
I tap
the corner of a brick with my foot and sigh. “Wish I could body-share with Viktoriya. We could find her easily.”
His expression darkens, and I see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Suddenly, I just know what he’s thinking: that he’s glad I can’t body-share with Untamed anymore. That it’s not possible for me to body-share with him.
He clears his throat and points at the building. “Think it’s stable enough for us to go inside?”
I shrug. My Seer powers don’t work like that, and he knows it.
Climbing through the broken recess into the building isn’t easy, and, twice, I slip and bang my shins on rock. Corin’s ahead of me, and one wrong foot from him sends a cascade of gravel over me.
“Shit. Sorry.”
I freeze, try to hold my breath as dust plumes around me. Then Corin’s hand is reaching toward me, and he hauls me up and through the gap. It’s a tight fit, thanks to the now-narrower cavity, and my back scrapes the uneven surface of the wall. I grimace, but I’m inside.
The wooden floor groans under our weight, and, for a moment, I think it’s going to collapse, that the building’s going to expel us.
“Over here,” Corin says, leading me away from the hole.
The farther into the building we go, the more stable it seems. Safer. The contents inside is mostly untouched by the effects of the storm—just that one corner that had been ripped away.
“Clothes,” I say, staring at the pile of them.
Corin and I exchange glances, then head toward them. The garments are old—very old—and have stiffened with time, feel cold and coarse under my touch. Several have huge holes in them, partly eaten away by insects. Lines of white mold cover several.
But they’re clothes—from the last Untamed who were here?
I frown, wonder how long ago that was.
“Perfect,” Corin says, handing me his Glock. “This shirt stinks.” Several of its buttons have disappeared, and he rips at the others. They make popping sounds, and something else tears as he yanks the shirt off, revealing his thick, muscled torso.
He turns, reaching for a shirt, and I stare at his back. At the hard muscles there. Something inside me responds at seeing him, something that makes me want to run my hands over his back, and déjà vu fills me, and I want to touch his back just like how I did when we showered together at the Zharat den.
I just need to touch him, and the intensity of the feeling shocks me.
But my hands are preoccupied with both guns.
The bands of muscles in his arms ripple as he searches through the pile, then chooses one.
“Might be a bit small.”
He pulls it over his head, then reaches around, pulls the bunched fabric out so it clings to his form.
He’s right. It is a bit small. Tight. I stare at the way the shirt accentuates his biceps.
He turns, and I’m so close. His eyes widen, and I look up, watch his pupils dilate as he looks at me. There are six inches between us, if that, and the air feels unsettled, shifting, like it’s moving, like it’s alive.
“We are okay, aren’t we?” My voice is a whisper. “You and me? We are still together, right?”
Because we’ve not talked, not about us, not since that argument when he walked off. Sure, we were thrown back together right after it—life and death situations make you cling together, even if you don’t want to.
“We are,” he says and smiles. “And we’re alone.”
He reaches out, takes the guns from me, puts them on top of the pile of clothes.
I don’t know which of us moves first, but there’s no distance between us and our bodies press together. Our lips meet, softly at first. Tenderly. Then we kiss faster, more urgently, and his breathing gets ragged as his hands run up and down my arms before settling at my waist.
My arms twist around him, his upper back, then my hands are in his hair. I breathe deeper, want to breathe him in, inhale him, be closer… Because it’s him. Really him. My Corin, and my love for him is strong, feels like the backbone of everything.
I pull back a little, see the look in his eyes—one full of longing…and something else.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” My voice is breathy, and I concentrate hard not to kiss him again. “We need to find Viktoriya.”
Yet…yet we’re both here. Alone. I can’t remember when we last kissed, last touched…especially with all that anger, arguing. But it proves it’s him—those negative emotions—and not Raleigh. When I momentarily thought Corin was Raleigh earlier, it meant nothing. It was just a blip, because of the shock of being in the Dark Void, of nearly not escaping. It meant nothing.
Being with Corin means everything, and my love for him is like a second heart beating inside me. Because it’s just me and Corin, and I will forget about what happened with Raleigh. I can. It won’t affect me.
Because this is Corin. This is us.
Corin takes a shaky breath, then lowers his head to mine. Our foreheads meet, and I look up, see his eyes, so close to mine that I can’t focus on them properly.
I turn and catch a glimpse of myself in a broken mirror. I stare at my reflection, my smile faltering. My skin looks grimy, and I rub my fingers across my forehead, feel the sweat there. My shoulders tighten. I looked like this when Corin looked so attractive, so strong?
A fluttery feeling fills me—a feeling I don’t like—then I lean in closer to the mirror, my eyes narrowing. I tug on a tuft of my hair, pull it through my fingers, then turn my head, try to see it from a different angle.
But it is.
It’s longer. Some sections nearly touch my shoulders, but even the shorter parts are several inches long, not close to my scalp. I tilt my head from side to side. I thought it felt a little longer before—but not like this. It makes my cheekbones look higher, sharper. I turn my head from side to side. I look different. Elf said I looked like Five… The Seers in me, they’re changing me?
But no—I don’t look like Five. I don’t. My cheekbones are higher, sharper because my face is gaunter. Not enough food.
“Is my hair longer?” I ask Corin, twisting around.
“Longer?” He steps closer, behind me, and I watch in the mirror as he puts his arms around me. The close proximity makes my heart quicken. I try to ignore it, need to stay in control. Because this is silly.
I take a deep breath. “It looks different. It’s longer than it was, than it should be.”
“I suppose it is.” But he’s not looking at my hair. He’s kissing my neck, and it would be so easy to melt into it.
I twist around to face him. “You suppose?”
He frowns. His pupils are back to a normal size. “Well, it is then, yes.”
But my hair doesn’t normally grow this quickly.
When I was little, I decided to grow it out to my waist, because that’s how long Five’s was at the time, and I thought she looked pretty and I wanted to be pretty too. My hair was only shoulder-length, and, for two years, I waited and waited, but it never seemed to get much longer.
Five’s, on the other hand, grew quickly. I was jealous of her hair—until she got part of it trapped in one of the truck’s engines when she was helping Kayden test the motors. He’d told her to tie it up before she leant over it, but she didn’t. The running motor ripped a chunk of hair out. I can still hear her scream now.
I pull on my hair. The texture, is it different too? Maybe…or maybe I’m imagining things now, reading stuff into it. Because it’s always possible to read stuff in, to find stuff, to convince yourself of stuff.
“You still look beautiful, Sev. Short hair or not.”
Beautiful.
His word grabs me, and I stare at him, imagine how it would feel to really kiss him and I keep imagining how it would feel, even as we leave the building, head onto the next one.
That’s when we see Viktoriya’s body.
I gasp, make a startled sound deep in the back of my throat.
She’s lying on her back, her eyes closed
, her mouth open. A metal beam runs across her stomach.
Corin swears, then we’re both running, feet pounding, churning up dust.
I reach her, touch her face. Cold.
No.
No.
No.
“Help me lift it,” Corin pants, and he’s already trying, has lifted one side of the metal beam a little. But it’s not enough.
Nausea floods me as I move to the other side, as I try not to look at Viktoriya’s face—try to ignore the pounding in my heart. My hands shake as I step over her and crouch, place them under the beam, right next to her body. Corin’s opposite me and he counts to three, eyes on me.
We both lift it. My arms burn with the weight, and I draw on my powers, make them make me stronger. Then the metal beam is free of Viktoriya, and I look at her and—
It is a mistake. Seeing the grayness of her face, the stillness of her chest.
Corin lets out a groan as he moves a little, slides his left knee under the raised beam, supporting some of its weight. His face contorts with the strain.
“Slide her out.” His voice is barely audible. “Toward me. I’m taking most of the weight.”
I let go of the beam with one hand, and my other arm burns—but I can’t let go, Corin’s not strong enough. It’s going to crush his leg just as it’s crushed Viktoriya. I pivot on my feet, twisting, reaching forward. The moment I touch Viktoriya’s side I feel pain. Her pain.
I jolt.
She doesn’t move.
“Use both hands,” Corin pants. “I’ve got the weight.”
My heart pounds—but it’s too heavy for him. But the look in his eyes….
I let go.
Sweat sticks my shirt to me, makes me feel sticky as I struggle to push her. Pulling would be so much easier, but there’s no space on her other side, next to Corin—not with the movement he needs to lift the beam. But, at last, her hips slide under the raised beam, then her knees, then her feet.
Corin lets out a long groan as he drops the beam. Cracks run across the wooden floor, several, all moving fast like snakes.
“Viktoriya? Viktoriya?” I touch her face, then wince, pull my fingers back.
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