Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  Nathan leaves to his side, and they stare into the mountain. A dark, scary hole stares back at them. To me, the hole says Do not come near my entrance, death lies within my darkness. But to them, I know they hear Come, oh Burdened ones, let us rival in the night as you wander through my crevasses. Someone’s going to suggest going in there. I know it.

  We need to go in there, Scott says, kick-starting rolling boulders in my stomach.

  I don’t know, Scott. We can’t see in there, Olar says. I agree with him. I don’t want to go in there.

  Tracey can. Scott volunteers me. Looking to Nathan, he continues, She can guide us through.

  He cannot be serious. Bug-eyed and mortified, I shake my head.

  Are you comfortable with that? Nathan asks me solo. I can tell by the distance his voice sounds in my head. When it is only him and I talking, it’s close and clear. When it’s more of us in a conversation, the voices a clear but they’re hollow and echoic.

  No, Nathan. What if something is in there?

  I’m pretty sure something is in there, Sparks.

  What if it gets me?

  You have three Burdened Sephlems with you. Nothing’s going to happen to you.

  But something might crawl on me. I rub my arms, trying to remove the feeling of creepers crawling on my skin.

  Sparky, Glen could be in real danger with someone who could actually hurt her. And you’re worried about bugs? He turns me around to face the mountain and says to all of us, Come on, Sparks, do that night vision thing with your eyes, stay quiet, and lead Scott through the darkness. Scott will be in front of you, lead him by his shoulders. I’ll be behind you and Olar behind me. Okay? Everyone nods except me.

  I prepare myself, blinking so the film can take over my eyes. My sight tints, darkening the night, but also allowing me to see in the dark.

  Scott walks into the black hole of the mountain, and I carefully follow behind him. Once the gloom swallows us, I grab his shoulders and smoothly guide him through the blackness.

  Besides Scott, there’s no red anywhere, only complete murk. And unlike night vision goggles that show green, making things extremely clear, my cloaked vision shows in gray and black. I can see the shadows in black and the edges in gray. And unfortunately, it’s not that clear, though it serves its purpose. Only Nathan can see what I see, and he leads Olar behind us when we need to duck or move aside to avoid a protruding edge.

  The hole is never-ending. Just space before us and rock aside and above us. Scott’s supposed to be using his senses to find Glen. I don’t suppose it’s working because he hasn’t said anything. The silence is maddening, and my mind wanders between Roehl and the mountain caving down on us. Or Roehl somehow making the mountain cave down on us.

  Nathan squeezes my side. Sparks, focus.

  I’m trying to; it’s just this stupid brain making me think about other things.

  Our steps are quiet, the enclosed space of the cave’s tunnel leaves no space for echo, and Olar and Nathan all but have to duck and squeeze through the tight area. A bright red figure comes in view, deep in the dark distance. With the frame of a male, it paces a wider area of the cave, from left to right. I can’t make out his face, nor what he wears, just his body shape and that he’s full of heat, letting me know this guy’s probably a beast.

  I pull Scott to a stop.

  What do you see? he asks.

  Something—someone is there, I answer. He’s huge, maybe taller than Olar and stocky.

  I can see him, Nathan cuts in. Take care of that, Night Eyes, he says only to me.

  Dust him? I ask.

  Yeah.

  Just like that, no words?

  Anyone living in a mountain this far in the dark is an enemy. And we can confirm Glen’s down here. They aren’t family, so yeah, just like that, dust him.

  But—

  We’re running out of time here, Sparks.

  What’s going on? Scott asks impatiently. We are wasting time.

  I concentrate on the pacing figure, trying to tap into whatever it is that annihilates people.

  The figure turns. His head moves to the left and then right as if it’s analyzing something. Analyzing us. . .? He stalks in our direction, footsteps fast, loud, and heavy.

  Now or never, babe, Nathan pushes.

  I try to tap into whatever wills this ability, but I don’t know what triggers it.

  The figure cringes a foot away from Scott and then he’s gone. But not because of me. I tried, Nathan.

  I know. We rarely work on it, so it doesn’t come to you as quickly as everything else.

  I nod and push Scott to walk again.

  If she’s somewhere here, we can’t be far, Scott says.

  I hope not, because I’m tired of walking through the darkness, Olar carps.

  You know, Nathan starts inquisitively, a hint of amusement circling his words. The darkness can drive a man insane.

  Olar titters, drawling, Yeah. Great idea for a way to torture someone.

  Exactly, Nathan intones. We could seal ‘em off in a dark hole. Leave ‘em down there for a few days.

  Maybe we’d leave ‘em down there for a week? That’d make ‘em crazy. I wouldn’t need to make them rip their skull open. They’d do it themselves.

  Would you two shut up? Scott stresses irritably. You two are torturing me with your excitement of torture and dark holes, like I’m not currently being tortured and in a dark hole. Dammit, this shit is killing me. Where the—. Wait! She’s right here. He stops. Right here.

  Umm, Scott, no she’s not. There’s nothing here. I tell him, seeing nothing but walls at our sides and emptiness to our fronts and backs.

  No. Listen to me. She’s here. I can feel her, right here, he argues.

  Sparks, look up, Nathan tells me. See if you see anything.

  I do and hope I don’t see anything because I don’t want this to get any creepier. The ceiling of the hole is less than a foot from our heads. Four lines of dark liquid’s smeared on the rock; maybe made by fingertips. Nathan, I say only to him. Do you see that?

  Yeah, I do. Don’t say anything yet. Follow it with your eyes. Does it stay on the ceiling?

  Looks like, in a few steps forward, they descend the side of the wall and stop midway down.

  I’ll tell Scott. He’ll be able to tell if it’s her blood.

  You think it’s blood?

  Maybe. We’re about to find out. Scott, he says to everyone, if you take a couple of steps forward, there’s a blood trail along the wall to your right.

  A cold despair takes over Scott’s presence, and his head falls forward as he shakes it. Not dwelling on the depressing news, he straightens, and I guide him to the wall, placing his hand on the trail. A chill runs over him as he hardens under my touch. It’s hers, he states serenely. Where does it lead? he asks.

  I can’t respond, shocked he’s confirmed it is Glen’s blood. Glen was bleeding and dragged down here?

  Scott’s body is shaking. He draws his arm back, forcing me back, and throws his fist into the wall. I jump, falling into Nathan. The sound of the impact and crumbling rocks echo through the cave.

  Light beams out from the hole, freeing us from the darkness. Nathan hardens when Scott looks back at him before stepping through the hole with caution. Olar follows behind him, leaving Nathan and me alone.

  “Sparks, remember what I said. No matter what happens.”

  THE COZY AREA LOOKS as if we’ve stepped into someone’s house, entering into a living room from the front door of an apartment. It appears empty. I can’t feel anyone here.

  “Okay, Scott. Where do we go?” Olar asks, complexion darkening a deep crimson and his hair spikes out.

  Scott turns to the left where a closed door sits in the wall. He’d taken on his demon before we had entered through the hole.

  I try to steady my breathing that seems to be coming out rough and nervously.

  The door opens to a bedroom. Water’s running. If someone’s here, I’d assume the p
erson would’ve rushed out here after hearing the explosion from Scott’s busting in the wall. But we’re alone.

  Entering a dimly lit bedroom, Scott continues our search for Glen. My heart’s pounding so hard my skin shakes in pulse with its beats. And my legs shake as I follow. The room’s furnished with two beds, a king and a full. The black sheets draw my attention away from the dirtied, orange painted walls. Besides the two beds, a tall lamp sitting in a corner is responsible for the dim lighting. And two doors, almost blending in with the walls, sit across from each other, sharing the same path.

  The one to our left opens first. An empty closet.

  The other door slowly swings open. There’s chatter. I can’t make out what’s being said nor can I tell who or what’s talking.

  Scott creeps to the door, sure to make his steps soundless.

  The three of us cautiously follow, and I’m hesitant with each step. Nathan patiently rubs his thumb over my hand, pushing confidence through me. The four of us enter to a flight of stairs. They lead us to a loft-like setting, with an angled banister and high ceiling.

  Before Scott reaches the top, where he can be seen through the posts, he looks at Olar.

  Olar nods and vanishes. I’ve seen him do it a hundred times and it still shocks me. He pops back up and scares the crap out of me. She’s up there. There are two; Monahan and another I don’t recognize. Umm, she’s. . . He pauses for a minute. Comfortable.

  Scott charges up the remainder of the stairs. I let my hand heat, and the film covers my eyes as we quickly follow behind him. He goes straight for a man I assume to be Monahan. A muscular man sitting on a chair spots Olar and punches the air. Olar flies against the wall behind us. Nathan moves me behind him, and I hear the guy who just air-punched Olar grind his teeth.

  Go to Glen, Sparks, Nathan says. If she tries to fight you, back off.

  I peek around him, taking in the scene first. Scott and Monahan fight, neither of them winning. Glen’s on a futon bed, watching the boys go blow for blow. She shows no recognition of us. The guy in the chair cringes, trying to fight against the hold Nathan has on him. Seeing Olar pulling himself from the floor makes me feel better, but he looks infuriated. Heading to Glen, I raise my hands, hoping to convey I mean her no harm. I can’t speak, and I don’t know how I’m going to talk to her. She smiles at my approach. I can’t read it but I return her smile, and she stands. I stop, unsure of what I’ll be walking into if I close this distance.

  Her head tilts to the side as she studies me through squinted eyes. “Hi. I know you, right?”

  I smile sweetly, nodding.

  “What’s your name again?”

  Tracey, I say in my head. But I know she can’t hear me. I don’t want to shake my head, that’d tell her, no, and nodding isn’t answering her question. Maybe I could sign it. . . Crap! I don’t know how to make a ‘Y.’

  Glen tucks her chin, saying, “Monahan told me people might come for me, to take me away. Are you here to take me away?” Uh, yes.

  Nathan shakes his head. Turning back to Glen, I mock the action.

  “Okay, then we can be friends.”

  I nod, agreeing with her. This isn’t Glen. She doesn’t even sound like Glen. This girl with Glen’s body is bubbly and sweet, voice light and cheery.

  “I don’t like them fighting,” she chirps. “But this has happened a couple of times since I got here. I think they’re playing, but it looks so painful. Right?” She looks for me to comment.

  I nod slowly, crinkling my nose and pulling my eyebrows together.

  She sits back down on the futon and pats the space beside her. “Come over and sit down. You don’t do a lot of talking, huh? Equelle, turn around so you can meet my new friend,” she says to the guy sitting in the chair who Nathan has taken over. “What’d you say your name was?” she queries, beaming brightly.

  I shake my head, hoping she won’t take it the wrong way.

  She shrugs.

  Scott’s airborne, flying past us, crashing into the banister. He falls over and tumbles down the stairs. Glen flops back on the bed, back arched as if she were struck in the spine. She cries out, and I cringe, assuming the immenseness of her pain. Monahan rushes over to Glen, yanking her from the bed to his side. I back away.

  “Come here,” Nathan instructs.

  As I pivot, Monahan snatches me around my chest. He’s fast as light, yanking me back so hard my feet lift from the ground. His arm curls around my neck, sending the shock from hell jolting through me. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from screaming. It hurts, it hurts so badly.

  Monahan’s nose or chin presses into my hair. I grimace. His body’s to my back, and I hear his erratic heart pumping. He’s too close, and I can feel him breathing along with the constant shock of his touch furthering my discomfort. “Nathan, why have you come here?” he asks, and his warm breath moves between my hairs, forcing me to feel it against my scalp. “And if you will so kindly let go of Equelle.”

  “You let go of her. I’ll let go of him,” Nathan bargains.

  “How can I be sure once you have her you won’t take over him again?”

  Nathan’s right brow rises and falls as he quips, “You can’t be.”

  “Then why should I let her go?” Monahan’s grip tightens around my neck, and the shock worsens. I touch his arm in an attempt to grab it from me and my touch against him shocks. He doesn’t mind it.

  Scott ascends the stairs. “Because if you let them both go we may leave here with the two of you still alive.” He stops at the landing, skin flushed, eyes dark.

  “I doubt I have to worry about my life,” Monahan confidently retorts.

  Scott’s eyes flitter over everyone and lands on Nathan. Nathan nods and in the same second, Equelle’s body bursts into ashes, sprinkling onto the floor.

  Monahan’s ripped from me, flying backward.

  My hands fly to my freed neck, rubbing away the pain.

  Glen whips around to me and a gust of wind shoves me into the air, ramming me against a wall. I hit it hard and smash to the floor. Ugh, I grumble.

  Nathan helps me up. “You okay?”

  Yeah. It just hurts like hell.

  Glen glowers at me as if I’ve betrayed her. “Glen,” Monahan calls. She happily trots across the floor, walking into his embrace. With pride, as if she were Queen Elizabeth, she faces us with her chin high and her blonde haired prince at her back.

  Now, what? I ask Nathan.

  She has to choose, he replies.

  Can’t we just kill him and get it over with?

  No.

  This is so confusing. Why? Because she’s choosing Monahan?

  Right.

  Well, this is getting good, I state.

  Not yet, I don’t think. And you may have to speak, which is going to make this a hell of a lot more interesting.

  I draw my lips into a pinch and shake my head, hating the idea.

  “Glen, let’s go home,” Scott says, soft and serene.

  “I am home,” she responds.

  “That’s right. She is home,” Monahan seconds.

  Monahan couldn’t be less of Glen’s type. Judging by his dark eyebrows, he chose to color his hair the same as Draco Malfoy. Lacking the height to see his face over Glen’s head, he’s no match for Scott. He’s skinny and has a face with a ton of freckles. I’m totally convinced he’s tricked her to reel her in. No way would she choose this guy over Scott. No way! Not with how she swooned and crazed over Scott all this time, long before they bonded; the stories she’s told me. . . There’s just no way.

  Glen leaves Monahan, walking in Scott’s direction.

  Aww! That didn’t take much. She knows what’s right. The plea for her glimmers in Scott’s burgundy eyes. But to our surprise, she passes him, going down the stairs, never even acknowledging her mate.

  I look at Nathan.

  Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you. Talk to her once you’re downstairs.

  I follow Glen out each door. She makes i
t to a door that’s near the entrance Scott created, and I call her.

  “How do you know my name?” she spits.

  “We’re friends. Best friends. You love me.”

  “How can I love someone who betrayed my family?”

  “Glen, we are your family.”

  “No. Monahan is my family.”

  “Scott is, remember!” I use what Taylor used on me the night Roehl showed up at my house.

  As soon as recognition flashes, it disappears, covering with anger and then hurt. “Scott,” she recalls.

  As if her statement were a question, I offer, “You love him. He loves you. He’s your mate.”

  She swings open the door, leaving the living room area of the mountain home. Cold rushes in, freezing my face. Reluctantly, I follow behind her, back into the icicle rain.

  “I know Scott. He let me go,” she says over the wind.

  “He didn’t, Glen. You were taken away. Monahan stole you.” Abducted her may be more of the truth.

  She twists around, blaring, “He did not steal me! Scott let me go! I loved Scott, umm?” She gives me a questionable eye.

  “Tracey.”

  “Tracey.” She smiles as she reaches over to hug me. I hug her and am beyond confused about what’s happening here.

  “Yes,” I drawl as she pulls away.

  “You are my good friend.”

  “I am.” Her moods are changing too quickly for me to follow.

  “Scott and Monahan,” she utters to herself, locking eyes with me. We stand on a steep ledge that may lead down the mountain by what looks to be a path. She looks between me and that path and says, “I love Monahan.”

  “You love Scott,” I object.

  She nods. “I love Scott.”

  “You remember Scott?”

  She nods. “Scott loves me but . . . I can’t be with Scott.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not real.”

  “No, Glen. What you have with Monahan isn’t real.”

  “It isn’t?” she asks, peeking over the edge of the ledge, her sadness thick in her voice. Only the tops of trees and darkness dress the land before us. The rain’s pouring down through it by the boatload, seeming never to find the ground. “I’m sorry, Tracey.”