by S A McClure
“And?” Iris asked, her voice impatient. “What’s your point?”
Grandmother smirked. “My point, dear one, is that she had cuts on her. Scrapes. A puncture wound from what could only have been from a talon. The cockatrice’s spikes and claws have poison in them.”
“You couldn’t possibly know this—” Iris stuttered.
Grandmother dropped her hand from her cheek and strode towards Iris, her golden eyes glowing faintly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she were going to take her last breaths anytime now,” she whispered, ignoring Iris’s question.
Iris closed her eyes. This was too big of a suggestion for Grandmother to be lying about. How long had she known? How long as she prolonged this conversation just to use that one tidbit of knowledge to force her hand?
She sighed heavily.
“If I do this,” she began. “If I go back to that place and risk my life, do you promise that you’ll send someone to get her?”
“Well, I don’t—”
“I think you know exactly where she is,” Iris interrupted.
When Grandmother didn’t reply, Iris continued, “I expect for you to retrieve my sister from wherever she is and to extract the poison from her system. If I wake up from my dream and Emma isn’t here, I can promise you one thing, Grandmother, the coven coming after you will be the least of your worries.”
The smirk on Grandmother’s face broadened. “You are finally learning.”
She looked away from the witch in disgust. “Just save her.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Iris
Iris slipped into the dream world with little effort. The sky was gray tinged with purple. Misty rain swirled around her. She shuddered against the cold, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest. It wasn’t dark out. Just gray. She drifted through vibrantly green grass. She listened to the wind rustling through the trees. None of it was familiar.
She’d been searching for days. Her boots had holes. Her stomach growled from hunger. Her cheeks stung from the cold. The rain. Salt crusted on her skin from tears long-ago shed.
She’d found no trace of the witches when she’d made it back to the clearing. Not even the ring of stones remained. There was nothing.
She traveled to the forest she’d shared with Liam. He hadn’t come. She’d called for him. There’d been no response.
She wandered across rough terrain. Seen things she wished had never seen. The death of loved ones surrounded by their families. Children shivering in the rain, their emaciated stomachs revealing their thin ribs. Gangs beating people in the streets. Lovers sharing tender moments.
She didn’t know how much of it was real or not. All sense of reality was lost. There were only the dreams ahead and behind her. There was only this. The wandering.
There was a part of her that knew it had only been a matter of moments since she’d entered the dream world. Time was different here. Entire lives could be lived in a matter of seconds. Others languished in a pivotal place, as if stuck on a ever-rotating wheel.
She didn’t belong to this world. She could leave this place, this winding trail, in a single heartbeat if she willed it.
But she didn’t.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Gooseflesh bubbled on her skin. She stilled. Cold, damp air pressed down upon her. A small whimper. The scent of dark amber. And honey. And sweat.
“Liam.” Her voice fluttered away on the wind.
It had to be him. Warmth crept along the curve of her back, but when she turned, there was no one there.
She whispered his name again.
No response.
Need filled every fiber of her being. She tore through the landscape that materialized before her. It was familiar now. Starlight filtered through the vibrantly colored trees. It was warmer here. The breeze wasn’t as harsh or overbearing. She could think. She could feel.
She began running down the path. Trees erupted from the ground all around her, forging into a dense, familiar forest.
Branches tore at her ebony hair as she dashed through them. She ignored the pain of hair being ripped from her scalp. All she could think about was finding him.
She bounded around a corner. Her feet sank into mud. Starbugs danced on lily pads covering the surface of the pond. The sister moons reflected on the water, rippling with the dance of fish and bugs. His back was towards her, his tattoos rippling over his muscles as his shoulders shook.
His face was shielded by shadow as she approached. He didn’t turn to face her, not even when she slid a hand down his back. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, willing him to look at her.
She kissed his exposed skin. His muscles tensed against her touch. Doubt flooded her. The overwhelming need to be near him was almost too much to bear. She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.
He had wanted her, hadn’t he? He’d sought her out in this forest. He’d kissed her in past dreams. He’d made her believe that he could love her.
What had changed?
She reached for his hand again, but still he pulled away.
“Liam?”
He wouldn’t even look at her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. All she wanted was to show him that she felt the same way for him that he did for her. And he wouldn’t even look at her.
“Liam,” she said again, more insistently.
She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him into the light. Silver lined his violet eyes. He looked above her head, at the ground, at their hands, everywhere except for her eyes.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
A tear ran down his cheek. His lips trembled as he reached up and traced his thumb over the curve of her nose, her cheeks, her lips. He shuddered.
She pulled him closer, breathing in his amber and honey scent.
Nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, she whispered, “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”
He released a trembling sigh. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her to his chest so tightly that she could barely breath. She let him hold her there, her body matching the curve of his. She tangled her fingers in his hair. He moaned softly and tugged her even closer against him.
She felt his tears soaking into the cotton of her tunic. She stroked her fingers down his back and whispered in his ear.
“I will always be here for you. Always. I know you’ve been hurt in the past. I can see the scars,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over a thin white ridge stretching over his left ribcage. “I will never fail you. Not anymore.”
“I let her die,” he said flatly.
Iris felt her heart stop beating.
“Who?” she asked. “Who did you let die?” Her stomach squirmed as she said the words. What if he was talking about Emma?
“I was trying to save her. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I saw… I knew how much she meant to you.”
Iris dropped her hands to her sides, her breath catching in her chest. Tears filled her eyes and it took everything in her will power to stop them from spilling down her cheeks.
“And I just… let her die. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, collapsing against her.
It could be someone else, she rationalized. Liam had never met Emma. It was possible he was mistaken. She couldn’t be dead. She heaved in a shuddering breath. Grandmother was going to save Emma. She had to. It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be. Her hands shook as she wrapped them around his waist and peered into his face.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. Snot dribbled from his nose. If Iris were being honest with herself it was disgusting. But, she wasn’t being honest. All she could think about was how much she wanted to take his pain away.
“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”
She knew she was lying. Nothing was okay. Emma was missing and, if Grandmother were to be believed, dying. There was a coven of blood-thirsty witches wh
o wanted to see her dead. And, to top it all off, the boy she’d been falling for was in a fit of despair.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly to his chest that she found it difficult to breathe. She kissed his cheek, his forehead, his other cheek. He leaned into her, his sobs the only thing breaking the silence between them.
When his lips finally met hers, it was like fire exploded between them. It was hard, desperate to the point of bruising her. He wound his fingers in her hair, holding her to him. She let him. She let him take everything she was and shape it into the two of them. He released a low snarl as he deepened kiss.
All thought of the mission she was supposed to be accomplishing vanished. There was only Liam. Only the feel of his lips on her. The heat of his fingers trailing over her bare skin. The intoxicating smell of amber and honey and something distinctly him.
She moaned as he bit her bottom lip, then forced her lips apart with his tongue. He stroked her back, leaving ribbons of warmth coursing through her. She tugged at his tunic, hungering for the feel of his bare chest beneath her fingers. It was like stoking a fire, this need for him to be close to her, touching her, kissing her.
They stumbled backwards together until Iris’s back was pressed against a tree. She barely registered the bite of bark pressing into her exposed skin. His muscles flexed beneath her fingers, pulsing with every movement he made as his hands roamed over her body. Each time flesh met flesh, the fire within her swelled.
His hands eventually found her hips. They cradled her there, his thumbs forming small circles of heat as he caressed her. All she wanted to do was stay like this—with him—forever.
“You’re here,” he murmured as he nuzzled against her ear. “You’re really here.”
His words were so soft, so mournful that they pulled Iris out of the spell he’d placed her under.
“We’re not really here,” she said, gently placing her hands against his chest and pushing backwards just enough to peer into his eyes.
They were too bright, still gleaming from the earlier tears he’d shed.
Not real.
This wasn’t real.
She shoved him away from her. The cold the filled her as he stepped away from her sent her heart spiraling downwards. Worse than the cold was the resignation and pain that registered in his eyes. She immediately regretted shoving him away. She clutched at the tree behind her, digging her nails into the bark, to keep herself from reaching out to him.
“She’s dead,” he moaned again. His eyes darted all around them.
Iris looked more closely at his face. There were hollows in his cheeks and dark purple bags beneath his eyes. A bruise marked his neck. He didn’t focus on her as he continued muttering to himself.
Iris had no idea who he was talking about and she didn’t have time to investigate further. Emma’s life depended her being able to find the coven, the witch with crimson eyes.
She didn’t want to leave him, though. Not like this. Not alone, in the woods, in distress. But she could see no other alternative. She stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed him on the cheek.
“I will find you,” she whispered. “I will always find you, even if I have to wander the real world for a lifetime to do it.”
He didn’t look at her. He didn’t give any sign that he had heard what she said to him. He just stood there, his eyes darting in all directions, muttering about the girl being dead.
She kissed him again before turning and walking away. She’d just slipped far enough into the trees to lose sight of Liam when his deep, velveting voice called out so clearly that there was ignoring it.
“The witch who wears many faces, she wants to kill you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Iris
“What did you just say?” Iris asked, reeling on Liam.
There was no one there.
She stalked back to the place she was sure he’d been standing. There were footprints in the ground, in the snow. She could smell the scent of him lingering there. That intoxicating mix of amber and honey. He had been there. It hadn’t been a trick.
She forced herself to breathe. To think. Her chest heaved as she sucked in short bursts of air. Already, she could feel her mind turning fuzzy. The trees around her spun. She clenched her fists, feeling the bite of her nails digging into her skin.
“What did you say?” she muttered, knowing she would receive no response.
Someone wanted her dead. Someone had sent that Inkwell to harm her family—the only real family she had left. And now they’d succeeded. Emma was injured and would die if she didn’t figure out where the crimson-eyed witch was. And, if she found the witch, she would more than likely end up at the pointy end of a blade.
It was her sister’s life or her own.
She couldn’t see any other alternative.
Emma had sacrificed so much of her life to keep her safe. It was time that Iris did some of the saving for once.
Now, to find the witch intent on killing her.
“I will find you,” she called out, her voice shaking the slender branches of the trees around her. “Do you hear me? I will find you. And, when I do, I will stop at nothing to end you.”
She shook her fist for good measure. It was silly. She knew the witch couldn’t see or hear her. That’s not how dreamwalking worked. At least, that’s not how Iris understood the intricacies of the ability.
She lifted her chin, commanding herself to walk straighter. To take ownership of her decision without remorse. Time was running out. There was no way of knowing how long she’d been in the dream world where everything shifted. Nothing was as it seemed.
She took only one step before she felt a sharp tug at her navel. Nausea rolled through her as the scene before her blurred. Colors mixed together. Air buffeted against her face. Brilliant light flashed before her eyes, streaking like a rainbow in the sky. She felt weightless. Dizzy.
And then grounded.
Her entire body hunched over as she sank into a new vision. This one was shrouded in shadows. They whispered her name as she approached a large stone standing upright in the middle of a clearing. Trees stood at attention all around her, but she didn’t sense anyone else in the clearing. They seemed to salute her as they bowed to the wind.
A flash of red in the distance drew her attention. She had seen that shade of crimson before. Her entire body went rigid as she stared at the twin pinpricks of light. They stared right back at her.
She ambled towards them. Her mind, fuzzy and whirring with anxiety, became more sluggish with each step she took towards the inevitable.
“Who are you?” Her voice was raspy, as if she had just inhaled a mouthful of smoke. When the witch didn’t respond, she cleared her throat and asked again. “Who are you?”
The glowing red eyes blinked at her in response.
Despite the pit in her stomach, she continued to approach the witch. Although she had been searching for this woman for what felt like days—months, really—now that she had found her, all she wanted to do was turn away. She willed herself to keep going.
Witch each step, her determination was leeched from her. She knew what her end would be if she continued down this path. She envisioned the end. The pain of the dagger slicing her skin, puncturing her muscles, cracking her bones. She knew it could happen—that it would happen if she didn’t turn away.
Her body rebelled against her.
Angry tears welled in her eyes, but refused to run down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but only managed to bite her tongue as her lips smacked together. She was at the mercy of the witch and she couldn’t even let her shoulders sag to show her discontent.
“You should have not returned here, Spellbreaker.” Her voice was like ice in Iris’s veins. How was she supposed to respond to that? She wanted to tell her that she hadn’t wanted to—that she was terrified of her.
Of the death she knew awaited her.
But, she couldn’t find the words. Her abdomen tighte
ned, squirming beneath the shackles controlling her mind. A sharp, stabbing pain erupted at the base of her skull. The tears that she had somehow managed to maintain poured from her eyes.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cradle her head between her hands. She wanted to be free of the witch’s influence. None of that happened. She just continued to amble forward, her body somehow continuing to function without her control.
The darker area in the form of a woman was the only sign of where the crimson-eyed witch was. Iris came to a stop in front of her. A cold finger stroked the line of her cheek.
Her insides squirmed at the touch, but she was unable to pull away.
“Our coven has waited for such a long, long time for someone like yourself to reappear. But, now that our wish has been granted, it is not to be so. You are a scourge to the order of things. The Light never intended for you to exist. You, who can tease apart the very nature of things, are not welcome among the living.”
The witch finally emerged from shadow. Her features were more hallowed now. The lines and angles of her face jutted out, as if her skin were the only thing holding her intact. It was stretched tight across her bones and muscle. Her glowing eyes narrowed as she took in Iris.
“I expected you to be…” She tapped her finger on her cheek, her eyes still roaming over Iris’s body. “More,” she finally said, her tone light and almost airy.
She snapped her finger right in front of Iris’s face. The sound reverberated through her bones, but still, Iris couldn’t respond.
What’s wrong with me?
She strained against the invisible restraints on her body and mind.
She imagined the witch’s hold on her like a wall separating her from freedom. She could see it clearly: made of stone and mortar. Tall—taller than any wall she’d come across in the real world. Ivy curled around the nooks and crannies. She could picture it. It was sturdy, but if she looked close enough, she could see the tiniest of cracks running along it.
She imagined herself facing the wall. She was armed with her sister’s favorite bow. Its frame was smooth beneath her thumb as she rubbed circles across the wood. Although she was not as skilled as Emma was with the weapon, the weight of it in her hands gave her a sense of relief. She could do this. It reminded her that her sister was still out there. She was alive. And, she would continue to remain that way if she had anything to say about it. They both would.