by Nina Walker
Evangeline is ugly crying now. There’s no other way to describe it. And I probably am too. This was not what I expected would happen when I saw Charlene’s spirit. But I couldn’t stop the tears even if I tried. It’s not fair, what happened. She died with her whole life ahead of her.
“Thank you,” Evangeline finally whispers.
“I don’t know what happened to your daughter and she doesn’t want to show me. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.”
Her lower lip trembles. “I guess I can accept that.”
“But I do know that her soul is at rest now. She’s happy. And she wants you to move on and be happy, too. And she wants to thank you for being the best mother she ever could have asked for.”
Evangeline wipes at her tears and nods. A smile cracks her face, a real one, this time. Not the fake glossiness from before. A peaceful feeling settles over the room and she stands, reaching for my hand, pulling me into an embrace.
“You remind me of her, you know?” she says against my ear. “Something about your eyes. They sparkle the same way hers did. And you’re a helper. You care about people. She did, too. She wanted to be a doctor, cure cancer, save the world.”
“She still cares about people. She cares about you.”
“Thank you.” Her hug tightens.
“You’re welcome.”
She steps back and gazes deep into my eyes. “Be careful out there.”
“I will,” I whisper.
She nods once but she’s not convinced. “I’m leaving this town tomorrow and I’m never coming back. But you don’t get to leave. You have years of school, but can you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“There’s something dark about this place. Something that killed my daughter.”
My breath catches and fear builds up inside me like an incoming storm. I nod because I know what she’s saying is the truth. There’s something terrible happening in this town and for some unknown reason, it’s only getting worse.
When I walk her outside, I forget to bring my necklace. I realize the loss of its weight around my neck the same moment Evangeline’s warning is confirmed. Not only is Kathrine’s spirit hovering over the sidewalk, ghostly water dripping down into a supernatural puddle, but so are the other women. Tessa is there, the girl who went missing last year. And the high school cheerleader. She breaks the pattern. She wasn’t in college, she was only seventeen.
She wears her fitted white and red uniform, a large W embroidered over her chest, for Westinbrook High. Her long ice-blonde hair hangs plastered against her face, her mouth gaunt, her eyes bloodshot. All three spirits shoot images at me at once, images of their lives, of their lost hopes and dreams, and worst of all, of drowning, of water filling their lungs until their consciousness washed away. It takes over my vision, cold and final.
I don’t stick around. I sprint back to the reading room and slap the necklace around my neck, falling onto the couch with choking breaths, as if I’m the one drowning.
18
Khali
“Bram!” I scream and then force myself to be silent. I’m afraid to listen, afraid the cursed forest will mess with me again and confuse me with its ghost whispers. But I can’t leave Bram here. I can’t do this alone.
I stumble forward, battling wild emotions and wicked branches. The sun has almost set. My lungs burn against shaky sobs and my vision blurs behind a veil of tears. Where is he? I need to get out of here. I can’t stay another second, especially not once darkness falls. My heart pounds and my hands shake and the trees press in around me. I need to shift and fly away.
“Bram, w-where are you.” My voice catches and more tears erupt. I was never much for crying but ever since Owen’s death and my father being hexed, I can’t seem to stop.
More voices call out to me. Are they the voices of the dead? Are they linked to the trees, part of the enchantment of the forest itself? My elementals roar to life under my skin and I welcome them, tucking them close to my heart like a security measure. Panic races through me when I realize they’re dimmed again, just as they’ve been on and off over the last few weeks.
What is happening to me? Am I losing my powers? As I get closer to my eighteenth birthday, I should be growing stronger, not weaker. I choke out a sob.
“Khali!” Bram yells.
I search for him, praying he’s real.
“Bram?” I call louder. “I’m over here!”
And then he appears, fear etched into his face. Sweat beads across his brow and his eyes are frantic as they search me out. My sobs continue, but now in relief. What would I have done if I was all alone out here? Would I have taken one of the jewels and been cursed to the same fate as all those sleeping people? I stumble over the brush and send the Gods a silent prayer that I’m still standing. Bram’s warm arms wrap around me, pulling me in close.
“Khali,” he says, his voice hoarse. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He tucks my body against his. The plane of his chin brushes the top of my head, and I turn my face into the hollow of his neck.
“It’s okay,” he says, over and over as I continue to cry.
I’m surrounded by scents of oak and cherries and comforting earth. He smells of life. The magic may have skipped him, but in this way, it clung to him. I’ve never been held like this before. A prickle of calm runs through me and I rub away the tears, feeling a bit foolish but also grateful. Then I untangle myself and tell him what happened.
He’s quiet as he takes it all in, glancing around the sparkling forest of gems with a sour expression. It’s not too far away that those bodies lie, twisted beneath the forest’s grip. The sun has almost set, and in a few minutes we can leave. But I can’t talk to him telepathically through the dragon link so we need to talk about this now.
“Why do you think that happened?” I ask.
His green eyes flash, and he runs a worn thumb along his lower lip as he thinks. “You’re the most powerful Dragon Blessed on the continent. This forest won’t be the only dangerous thing attracted to that. I knew the forest was enchanted but I didn’t know it could speak to someone’s mind. There are no documented cases of this happening in the history texts, probably because anyone who wakes up after a thousand years spent here has probably lost their mind. It could be that many who wake up here are trapped in the trees.”
I blink, horrified. To be trapped within these monstrous trees? A soul should be free after death. How can something so beautiful be so misleading?
He clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, Khali. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s not your fault,” I quip.
His lips press into a flat line, jaw popping. A lock of chestnut hair brushes his cheek and shines golden in the sunset. The planes of his face are cut almost as sharply as the gems surrounding us. He suddenly looks much older than I remembered. He almost looks like Dean and that makes my heart ache.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here. How much farther do we have?”
He searches the last bits of coral sky flashing through the jeweled canopy. “We’re close. Maybe a few hours flight,” he says. “But we need to be careful. No doubt the army is out in force searching for us.”
We start to walk back to our spot under the tree where we left our packs.
“That’s true, but once we cross the border, they won’t follow us,” I say confidently. We’ll be faced with other issues, but at least this one will be over and done with for now. Keeping inside our borders is part of why the Brightcasters’ have been so supported in their reign. The kings might have had their spies over the years but the wards keep our enemies from coming in and we don’t risk leaving. Save for the merfolk, who tend to keep to themselves, our people are the only ones inhabiting this land.
“They won’t risk the army and weaken the wards, not for my sake.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bram laments. “Do you forget how important you are to this kingdom? To my family?”
I
bite my lip and look away. I’ve heard this kind of talk my entire life. I don’t need to hear it now, not when my mission is so important. Father is counting on me. And besides, it’s not like I won’t be back. I still have to take down Silas!
I rub my boot into the dirt and fight the thought, the wish, to never come back.
“We just need to leave,” I say. “Now.”
He studies me carefully and then continues walking. “After we cross the border, we will be in Fae territory. You know what to expect?”
“I think I do.”
“You need to be prepared for anything. The Fae are immortal beings comprised of different races of faeries and elves and the like. They can be killed but their ageless existence has made them extra cunning and equally dangerous, especially the High Fae” He sounds like he’s reading from a textbook. He sounds like the Bram I know, not this new one full of adventure.
“But their magic is elemental, like mine, so shouldn’t they be similar?”
He twists his mouth, thinking for a while, before speaking. “We don’t know the full extent of what they can do. They had their own secretive courts and kings until the Sovereign Occultists conquered them, killing off all the royal lines in one swoop. There are barely any High Fae elves left as far as I know.”
I bite my lip. That could be our kingdom next if we’re not careful.
“We’re heading into unknown territory, occupied by the most ruthless empire ever to rule in Eridas, so we need to be careful. Anything could happen.”
His words leave me hollow and I suck in a breath, trying to fill myself back up. Even though I want to take to the sky right now, we need to have this conversation first.
“You’re right. I didn’t know all the rules to this wicked forest and I won’t make that mistake twice. So remind me of what I might need to know.”
“You can eat the food and drink the wine,” he says, “but since my blood isn’t magicked, I can’t. And if we come across anyone, we do not want to make enemies, but we absolutely can’t make any deals. Their magic is far more binding than ours. If we make a deal and we break it, it could kill us.”
We fall silent, letting that truth settle over us.
“They can’t tell lies, though,” I add, remembering that part. I always thought that would be odd, but also useful for a court such as ours. “That’s to our advantage.”
“But they can tell half-truths,” he says. “They are shifty. Don’t trust any of them.”
I gulp. “Okay. And you know where the ley line to get to Dean is?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” he says, but he doesn’t add more and I don’t press him. If anyone can find it, it’s Bram.
I’m not sure what to expect. Ley lines can’t be seen, they can only be felt. Three realms sit on top of each other but operate independently: the magic, the spirit, and the non-magic. The ley lines are energetic lines connecting significant places and sometimes where they cross, the energy is magnified so much that those with elemental magic can move between the realms. It would make sense that when Dean was exiled, my father helped him cross through to the human world where he would be able to live in safety. My father doesn’t have dragon magic, so he couldn’t cross into the human world alone; Dean would have had to have helped him as well.
There are a few advantages to being nonmagical in this world, mainly that magical beings can’t sense the nonmagical, nor do magical beings really care to be bothered by those without magic. Maybe that’s why King Titus sent him.
The thought of crossing realms gives me pause. I remember Owen’s words at dinner the night he was killed, finding the hole in his ideas. “Why would the Occultists need us to cross if they’ve conquered the Fae? Couldn’t they have crossed into the human realm with Fae magic?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” he says. “And I’m afraid I only have a flimsy theory. They must have tried, but they might need all of us. Why else would they be moving from kingdom to kingdom, conquering every magical race?”
The thought hardens my stomach. “We can’t get caught,” I whisper.
“No,” he replies. “We can’t.”
His theory solidifies why King Titus would be using my nonmagical father to cross into Fae territory instead of one of the Dragon Blessed. My father, the bravest man I know, would have agreed.
I need to draw on his strength now. I need to be like him.
I hold Bram’s gaze for another long moment, taking in the intensity of his green eyes until I can’t handle another second and look away. We’ve reached the place where we rested, our packs untouched and waiting for us. I wrap the cloak around my chilled body and drape my pack over my shoulder, Bram’s too, then shift into my dragon form. When I shift, the clothes and packs disappear and shift with me, held to me by some unseen force.
Bram isn’t shy this time as he climbs onto my back.
I’ve never seen the border before. I’ve heard the stories, seen artists’ depictions, but as we get closer, my heart speeds in anticipation. I didn’t expect to be able to feel it. Even from here, miles away, the energy buzzes through me and pulls me closer, like gravity. The magic of the wards are the same magic of my four elementals, but I’ve never heard of this happening to anyone else. I long to ask Bram but I cannot in this form and we can’t stop.
Firelight twinkles in the distance. A nearby village. I’m careful to steer clear. Since there are less villages and people this close to the border, I’m able to fly low, but those lights leave me uneasy. With the wards’ energy crackling through me, I feel safer down here, more grounded. I want to be as close to my land for as long as possible. I want to turn back. To stop. To keep going. I want everything and nothing and the riot is maddening.
Finally, the border rises up in front of us, an iridescent wall of fog reaching too high to fly over. The warring energies settle into one smooth thought: I cannot pass through.
But I must.
I land us in a field of grass, a dozen paces from the wall. Bram jumps off my back, and I return to my human form.
He must see the fear in my eyes because he takes my hand.
It would be so easy to turn back. I’m safe here. I matter here. I’m going to be the next Queen and even if Silas ends up as my husband, I could live a semi-happy life. My people need me. They need me to bring them more elemental royal heirs; for it’s only the elemental magic that keeps these wards strong. Dragon Blessed is not enough on its own. If that magic was lost, the wards would fall and we would be thrust into war. If the Occultists conquered everyone else, what would make us so different?
I swallow my fear and think of my father, lying in his deathbed. I think of Dean, living a new life because of my choices. I think of Bram, who has come so far and risked everything to help me. These thoughts, they urge me forward.
I squeeze Bram’s fingers tight. “Let’s go.”
Together, we walk through the fog and into an uncertain future.
19
Hazel
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I mutter to myself. Just yesterday I was chased down an alleyway and giving a statement to the police. And today? Today, I’m skipping anthropology class to go sneak around Dean Ashton’s house.
Alone.
Because he knows something about that dragon spirit, the same spirit I saw go after my would-be attacker, the spirit he was desperate to find. There’s a connection. I don’t believe Dean is the murderer, my instincts tell me not to fear him, but there’s more going on than meets the eye and if he won’t tell me, I’m going to figure it out myself.
I don’t meet Cora and Macy at the dining hall to eat breakfast before class like we’ve been doing all semester. Instead, as I leave the dorm building, I text Macy a quick excuse and veer in the opposite direction, tugged toward Dean’s neighborhood. The gray sweep of clouds and gusty autumn wind add a wintery bite to the air, sharpening my senses.
Nobody seems to notice me in the midst of their morning hustle once I’m walki
ng down the suburban streets. Sleep-rumpled parents are busy ushering bright-eyed children onto overheated school busses. Commuters pull out of garages, strapped into shiny vehicles, already tuned in to their favorite radio stations and podcasts. It doesn’t take long to locate Dean’s house, but I walk right past the brick cottage and wait much further down the street until the man himself comes through the front door, locking it behind him. He doesn’t see me or even look my way as he heads toward class.
A couple of minutes after he’s gone, I stroll back to the house, keeping an eye on the neighborhood. The morning rush has come and gone in a mad dash and once again, the street is empty. No cars. No kids. No parents. But it might not last. I need to be quick.
I saunter up his driveway like I’m a regular guest of Dean’s and go for the garage. I don’t know the code to get inside, but there’s a gate along the white vinyl fence that’s my target. If there’s a padlock, I’m screwed. But sweet mercy, there’s nothing but a latch. I slide it up and open the gate just enough to slip into the backyard. This guy must not be too worried about security if he doesn’t even lock his gate. I wonder why not? That in and of itself comes with its own suspicions.
It’s as well kept back here as it is out front. No surprises there. I hurry past the aging trees, heavy with their dying leaves, my shoes crunching on the yellowing October grass. My lungs inhale steadying breaths, the brisk scent of the morning filling me up. The back porch is covered. None of the back neighbors will be able to see what I’m about to do, thank God.
I try the sliding door first but it’s locked, as expected. I go for the adjoining window next and press my face against the large pane of glass, eyeing the modern living room and kitchen inside. I don’t see signs of a security system anywhere, no cameras or monitors or anything. Is it really worth it? Breaking and entering is a crime. I could get caught. If I do, what will happen to me? Will Dean press charges? Will I get expelled from school? All my dreams of vet school and a career helping animals heal could be washed away.