by EJ Everette
“Tell us.” Mitch knew the minute we walked in the news wasn’t going to be great. He can sort of read people’s minds based on their emotional connections. Our collective anger, fear, and nervous energy is nearly a physical manifestation at this point so I have no doubt he knows the gist.
“The council listened to our proof. They conferred and have decided that a war with Gash would be… unfortunate at this time. They are not prepared for the ramifications of such an act. They also fear the prophecy and just how strong Gash may have their teeth into Gray at this point. They are worried that, should we act and succeed, we would be bringing home a being controlled by the Gash forces, resulting in the destruction of our homes as the prophecy dictates. Basically,” my brother sighs heavily, “we have been told we are not to act. The council believes that, if Gray is who she is meant to be, she will be able to escape without our intervention.” He rests his head in his hands after this announcement while the rest of us sit in stunned silence. Dean and Mitch look very much like I feel at the moment. Sick.
“So,” I begin, “the council has said we can not execute an attack on the Gash who have taken our brother in arms or our mate. Is that correct? We are to sit and wait for them to rescue themselves, correct? Wait, Gray’s grandfather is on the council, is he not? How can he just sit there and rule such a thing? Make a decision that could be the death of his only granddaughter?” I have known the council members, the heads of each house, to be strict. There have been many missions where they have ruled for us to walk away from plans that we believed would have saved many lives. In the end, their judgements are based on centuries of knowledge and we have always respected, if not necessarily agreed with, their final decisions. Still, I find it hard to believe the king would just sacrifice Gray like that. The day we met to tell him we had, in fact, found the prophecy girl, he wept. The old man, strong and revered by everyone, openly wept with joy and sadness I could not even begin to comprehend. Mitch had asked him if he wanted us to bring her to him, so they could finally meet now that she was aware of her true self, but he had refused claiming the time was not right. No way he would let her die at the hands of our enemy, no matter what the rest of the council may deem important.
“He was not there. Most of the realm representatives were absent, actually,” Dean explains. “I was surprised since rarely do they meet without the full set. When I inquired as to the location of the others, the representatives present said there were things happening in the home realms that kept the heads of each house busy at the moment and therefore a ruling was made that those present would speak for the whole.” Dean rubs his eyes with his right hand, as if he thinks the sleepy droop below each will just disappear at his touch. My eyes pan over to Mitch, the grumpy but optimistic one in our group, and I see nothing but pain and exhaustion in him as well.
My family is falling apart around me. I can not let this happen. There has to be something we can do. In all our years together, we have always found ways to get through our trials. Even as kids, when Dean’s parents were murdered, none of us were old enough to understand what that truly meant yet. We had only barely begun to know one another at the time. As the years went by, we grew stronger together, aiding each other through our personal struggles. When Dean went on a rampage as a hot-headed teen, we were all there with him, tearing shit up but keeping him safe. Of course, the council stepped in back then to set us all on the “right track” but we did it all together. When Rip and I ignited, when Mitch lost De’Mariya, his powers manifested so quickly he didn’t even realize he was sensing emotions when no one was actually talking about how they felt… we have always been a team. This is just another mission, another trial thrown in our path to try to destroy our team, but that is where fate has to check itself. We are far more than just a team, we are a family. And there is nothing that can break us.
My twin, womb-sharing brother from the same mother, meets my eyes, the glint in them all the motivation I need to say what I’ve been thinking.
“We are going.” The guys look at me, expectant. “The council says we are forbidden from planning an attack on the realm. So be it. We don’t need to attack to rescue the missing members of our family. An extraction mission is plausible. It will take some work on both Rip and Dean’s end. The two of you will need to use everything in your arsenal to try to pinpoint as exact a location as possible for us to search. Mitch, you and I will work on a strategy to get us in and out without detection. I have some left over potions from the mission in Philegaria years back. I need you to prioritize weapons and prepare rations for the trip. We need to be in the realm of Gash for less than four hours in order to go undetected. This is not our first mission, and it will not be the last.”
Looking around at my friends, my brothers, I see a renewed determination, one reflected in my own heart. There are many details to work out still, but I have faith in my team. “I will try to rest again, maybe I can get word to Chance that we are coming so he can be prepared. We need everyone on board for this to work.” Dean is already rising from his seat as he talks. His long arms stretch up over his head as a deep yawn racks his body. I am almost jealous of the fact that his part in all of this involves sleeping. That is, until I catch a glimpse of the fear in his eyes before he can hide it. Seeing Chance in those dungeons, hearing Gray’s wails of pain, knowing he is unable to do a damn thing while he is there except talk… that burden is not one I envy at all.
“I have an idea, as well,” my little genius of a bro chimes in. “Reid, do you still have the strombark essence from when we did the official binding ceremony with Ink and Tiberius?” I nod my head, a smile lighting up my face as I see where my twin is going with this. He raises his head to take in my response before continuing with his line of thought. “Good, then if you will excuse me, I will be in the war room. I have some work to do. When I call each of you, one at a time, I will need you to come to me and give me some of your blood.”
“What the hell are you going on about? Why do you need our blood?” Mitch’s eyes are wide, confusion set across his face. If I hadn’t helped my brother gather the hard-as-hell to come by strombark the last time we did this, I would be just as confused. See, always making me do shit I do not want to do, and yet I can not even be irritated by the struggles I faced gathering that essence. Not when my brother and his big brain were about to use it to save our girl. Today was one of the few days I could honestly say I wish I was as smart as Rip. Generally we each function really well with our own strengths, and it is rare we envy the other’s abilities. Today though, I know his ability to create complicated and elaborate potions due to decades of reading lengthy boring books full of recipes will be the reason we find our Gray. Lucky fucker was going to be the one who saves the day even if it is my plans that get us there and back.
Rip smiles at Mitch, a full blown smile I have not seen him sport since before Gray was hurt in the fire. “I am going to restore our bond with our fated one and our captured brother. I am going to link us once again to the ones we seek. And when I do, if it works, we will not only be able to pinpoint their location, you will be able to read them again. If this works, we could have our family home before nightfall.”
“It will work.” I slap Rip on the back as I stand. “We all have faith in you, brother, and we will do whatever it takes to make this successful. You need not worry. Tonight we will celebrate with our household complete again.”
We all stand, ready for action. Each of us will do our part and I have no doubt we will succeed. Yes, there it is. The hope we all needed. It is permeating the air, circling around us all. Tonight we will sneak into the realm of Gash and rescue our family. And when we get back, when we successfully return to this realm and have her here with us, safe and sound… I am kissing that girl with everything I have, even if it kills me.
25
Gray
I wish I knew how to tell time or at least how many days pass while stuck in this hellhole. If my crude way of tracking the passage of
time is even remotely correct, it has been six days since the last time Dagnoroth and his minions stopped in to check on me. Well, torture me really. My body is mostly healing on its own and the idea that he might be waiting until I am fully healed again before he returns frightens me so much I almost pray for my wounds to remain. I no longer need Mom’s help to heal my own internal injuries and after a few days, or weeks who knows, of sitting in my tattered clothes without the abuse of my captors, I am actually getting a bit bored. A small laughing sound pops from my mouth before I slam my hand over it to prevent any further noise from escaping. It’s official. I have lost all sanity. I am now bored because I am not being beaten to a pulp every day. Geez I am going to need some serious help if I ever make it out of here.
Feeling the stiffness in my joints, I start stretching, my legs laid out in front me as I bend to grab on to my bare feet. I removed my shoes a while ago since so much blood was pooling in my socks and then drying again they became uncomfortable to wear. Since my shirt had been torn in two to make a wrap for my head wound it isn’t functional as a shirt any longer. I have been using it as a blanket, crappy at best but better than nothing. My shorts are filthy and I know I smell bad. Like really bad. I am immensely grateful for my ability to heal because I can’t imagine how much worse the odors would be if I had infections covering my body where all my wounds are exposed.
After a couple deep stretches, I stand, this time with almost no dizziness. Pacing the small circular floor of my cell, I raise my arms above my head to stretch them out as I think on how to get the hell out of here. I may not know how much time has passed, but I know it has to be enough that Charlie, Leanne, and everyone else has noticed I’m missing. I wonder if the guys know where we are. I have heard the little minions chatting about Chance and, though it doesn’t sound like they are pouring him tea and treating him like royalty, I have heard enough to know he is still alive. Surely the guys would be coming for him, at least, able to track and find one of their own. If they can’t get me out of here, maybe I can get them to take a message to Charlie that I am okay and I will figure a way out of here. The idea makes me laugh again, so absurd I can’t even be bothered to hide the sound this time. I am never leaving this place. As much as I want to believe there is hope, I just can’t. It’s likely that is what Dagnoroth wanted this whole time, anyway. To break more than just my body, to destroy my will, so that I will surrender to him completely. And I am far too close to giving in, my mind already feeling shattered, splintered between what is real, my emotional connections with the people I care about, and what my fate will inevitably be.
I haven’t talked to Mom in a few nights. I have felt her try to come to me a few times, but I toss and turn until I wake up, avoiding her completely. Just one more piece of proof for the whole Gray is losing her ever-loving mind theory. I have wished my Mom was with me every single day since she left, and here I get a chance to be with her and I push her away. I want to talk to her, to seek comfort in her presence, but something is stopping me. That something is guilt. All encompassing, painful, right-in-my-face guilt. Because of me, my Mom and Dad were both tortured and murdered, entire kingdoms might suffer, my Grams was killed, Charlie was abused and ruined… the list goes on. As much as I want to believe there is some divine purpose for my existence, the reality is too obvious, a harsh bright light in the darkness, painstakingly surreal.
Jogging in place, my feet pound the cold stone of the floor. Since I have been healing faster, and with little effort, I have been trying to stay busy by going through the motions of my pre-run workout. I am still weak as fuck and even this slight jarring of my body while jogging in place is causing pain to shoot up my calves, into my knees, and straight to my hips. Still, my feet were basically meat sacks of shattered bones just a few days ago, so any pressure on them is a miracle. My toes still feel like they are disconnected somehow, like maybe I jacked up the healing and the digits on the lower part of my body will be crooked for forever, but I managed to reknit all of the bone fragments well enough that after a few days of jail-cell physical therapy, they feel almost like they are back to their old selves.
Sounds echo down the hallway causing me to stop my mini workout session and throw myself down onto the floor, sprawled out and silent. If they catch me up and moving, they will know I have healed myself. According to Mom, any evidence of my abilities will give Dagnoroth the fuel he needs to move forward with his plans for me. I have no idea what those plans are, but there isn’t even a teensy piece of me that wants to find out, either. So for now, I have to keep up the ruse that I am broken beyond repair in hopes that they will tire of me and leave me be. Best case scenario, I never see those ugly bastards again and they leave me to starve and die.
“Enough of that,” a familiar voice calls out to me. I look around and sure enough, my Mom is standing before me. Had I fallen asleep while playing opossum? Ugh. But wait, Mom doesn’t look see-through like she usually does…
“Grayelle, I have been trying to reach you but I see your stubbornness must have come from me.” She smiles at me, approaching me slowly as one would a small child scared and cornered. “I needed to speak with you and since you’re being a pain in the ass, as you say, this was the best I could do.” Tenderly, at a sloth’s pace, she caresses my cheek. I feel her hand, skin to my skin, as she wipes a tear I didn’t realize I had shed from my face. Holy shit I can feel my Mom!
“But… but” my eloquence knows no bounds yet again.
“I do not have long, my sweet. To answer your unspoken question, yes, I am really here.” Before she can finish the last syllable, my hesitation vanishes and I embrace her, squeezing her as tightly as I can. I am holding my Mom again after all of these years! The tears fall freely now, a cocktail of joy and sadness streaming down my face in heavy droplets. Mom holds me tightly to her chest, too, as if she would be pained to let go of me and I find myself content to never leave this position. She leads our bodies down to the ground where I had been playing dead earlier, gathering me into her lap as if nothing had changed since she last held me. Of course, there is more of me now than there was then, but she doesn’t seem to notice and I can’t seem to care. We stay like this, both silently weeping as we embrace the other. Mom runs her hands through my messy hair, placing kisses on the top of my head over and over.
After what feels like an hour or two of just being together, Mom pulls away. I continue to grip her tightly, at first, but she just giggles some and pulls away from me as if my arms were made of noodles instead of steel. Damn spaghetti appendages.
“Grayelle, we need to talk. Unfortunately, I do not have much longer on this plane.”
“It’s okay. I mean, if it’s alright with you, I’d much rather just spend this time cuddling and then we can talk in my dream again later. No offense, but I missed you so much and I just want to feel you holding me again. Maybe, if we stay like this long though, all of the pain that came after you were taken from me will just wash away. Maybe, maybe it will be like it never happened. All the horrible things I have endured will just be terrible nightmares. Just stay like this with me, please… Mommy. I need you.” New tears, fresh with the memories of all I have endured since she left so long ago, cascade down my face, landing on my chest where it rests against her. I have never been more vulnerable in my entire life, but somehow showing this brokenness to my Mom feels right. It feels monumental, like everything is about to change.
“Oh my princess. I wish… I wish I could. I wish I could take away all of the pain you have suffered. I would give the gods anything to be able to wipe it all from your past. But, my sweet girl, there is nothing I can do to wash them away. You must be the one to overcome them. Memories hold power over us in ways no chains could ever bind us and no cut could ever bleed us. That power is fueled by our need to grasp what we can of our past to explain our life in the present. The reality is, my princess, that holding on to those memories only dilutes our present and future. We are not what our pasts have made us, we are w
hat our destiny holds for us. What we believe ourselves to be.”
She wipes the water from my eyes, placing another gentle kiss on my forehead, before pulling back to look at me. I see so much anguish in her expression, sadness reflected in my own eyes. Straightening my back the best I can, I smear the damp grime across my face in an attempt to appear more put together than I really am. Somewhere deep inside of me, her words resonate. My past should not be what dictates who I am now nor should it have a hold on my future. It is over, done with, and though the scars I wear both inside and out may never disappear, they are not what holds me together.
“Okay. I’m ready then. What did you want to discuss before you go all non-corporeal again?” I try to joke, but my voice hitches a bit at the end and I know she can tell how the idea of losing her back to spirit form already hurts me.
“I will not be returning after this, Gray. I had to use everything I had left in me to appear to you like this. When I fade this time, it will be for good.” Her words smack into me harder than the fists of the brute as it beat me. What?
“No. No you can’t leave! I just got you back. What am I supposed to do? How do I survive in here? I am sorry I pushed you away. I am so sorry. Please don’t go, Mom. Please,” I plead, my hands wrapped around hers as I shake from grief. “Please don’t leave.”
The look on her face morphs from despair to acceptance and I know what she is going to say. I know she is going to leave and there is nothing I can do about it. There will be no stopping her and I will be alone, again. If I thought I was broken before, a new kind of crack begins to form across my very soul, emptiness invading me as the crevice widens, destroying me in a way I may never be able to recover from.