And then there will be nothing left but darkness.
A sound starts to circle me. It is high-pitched and keening, powerful and sharp...
With a start, I realize it's me.
It's a roar and a scream and a howl, all at once. It is a sound of fury and anger and total and absolute rage.
And it's coming from me.
I hold Silver tightly, tighter, bending and bowing into her like I can somehow protect her from the darkness.
It's impossible, of course.
There's darkness all around us. Coming closer, every second.
Ready to snuff out the light.
They have no right to do this.
They have no right.
There's a sound like a great crack.
It's a splintering sound, like wood breaking, hundreds of trees snapping in two, a house ripped from its foundation, sailing into the air.
I gasp, mouth open. I reach up, press my fingers to my throat. I suddenly can't breathe, and the driving force in my stomach is too much...
Is it because Silver was stabbed?
Am I feeling what she's feeling?
The crack echoes around us again, a gun shot, a broken bone, a slab of concrete breaking in two.
I reach down and press my mouth to Silver's tangled curls. I breathe her in as I get smaller, turning inward. I take a deep breath in, and her scent enters me.
The wild woods.
My wild Silver.
I love her.
I will never stop loving her, even when she is gone. Even when I am gone.
I will never stop.
The crack echoes for the third time.
A broken heart.
A spirit breaking.
A lock...
Springing open.
Chapter 25: The Heart
If this is it, if this is really it...
Then I don't want that awful thing inside of her.
I grasp the handle of the knife.
Silver groans against me.
I'm going to be sick...
But I pull.
It's harder than you would think. My arm stiffens, my muscle flexes, my fingers grasp harder, tighter, around the bloody handle...
Please, I pray to anything and everything.
And the knife comes out of Silver, into my hand.
She gasps, panting against me. Blood spills everywhere, over my lap, onto the floor, pouring out of her belly. I don't know what to do. I don't know anything about this.
But I know that blood is precious.
There's no chance for us, but that doesn't stop me from needing to stop her from bleeding out.
There are various hisses from around the circle, but I don't look at anyone else.
I don't have time for them.
I press my hands to her belly. I let her slide down, onto the floor on her back, and I press my palms hard against her slick skin and the ugly wound.
She's coughing, and with every cough, more blood flows out of her mouth.
The anger in me rises.
The pain in my belly, Silver's pain.
I can feel it brighter, harder...worse.
But I don't have time to think about that, either. I press down on Silver, and I watch her gasping for air, and then...
Then the man that my grandmother ordered to kill me...
He prowls up beside me.
My world has come down to this:
Silver, gasping for breath.
Silver, bleeding out before me.
Silver.
Only her.
There is nothing else.
Even as he reaches down toward me.
Even as the florescent lights make his teeth shine, his fangs long, distended, his mouth horrifically unhinged...
There is nothing else.
Even as his fingers close around my neck...
There.
Is.
Nothing.
Else.
The pain pulses in my belly, in Silver's belly. Her life's blood trickles out onto the dirty concrete.
And he dares to touch me.
He dares.
I close my eyes to everything. I curl inward, and I press my hands down to Silver's belly, knowing I am doing nothing to save her...
And the anger coils outward, spinning, pulsing, along with the heartbeat of pain.
The vampire's hand about my neck...
It's gone.
He drops to his knees.
The vampire crumples next to me, gasping.
And then he falls to his side.
He's clutching his belly.
More hisses surround me, but these are louder, more intense. There's the sound of gasps, intakes of breath and painful groans.
One by one, they begin to fall to their knees, the circle of people. Each one of them with an agonized face, each one of them holding their stomachs and curling forward.
None remain standing now...
None.
But my grandmother.
Marie's hands are on her hips. She leans forward at the waist, her frown ugly. “What the hell is going on?” No one replies to her, so she snarls. “What's wrong with you?”
But still, they can't answer her. They're moaning, clutching their middles with long-nailed hands, writhing on the floor in agony.
She growls, stepping forward.
She no longer has them in her sights.
She's staring at me, her gaze sharp as razors.
“What the hell are you doing to them?” she hisses.
But I've closed off from everything else around me. She's not part of my world.
Nothing else is.
Nothing...
But her.
Silver's light is growing dimmer with each breath. It's troubled breathing now, each intake far too difficult, each exhale shaky, possessing finality.
My hands shake, too, as I hold her close, as my body contorts with the strength of my plea. It bubbles up inside of me, even though it's not possible...
“Please,” I whisper.
This time, I am not praying to anything outside of us.
I'm asking her.
Only her.
“Please...Silver...” I bend forward, my mouth above hers. Her breath is soft, hesitant.
Almost nothing.
A sob wracks through me, but I grind my teeth together, refuse to submit to the keening.
No, no, no.
“I'm here, baby,” I whisper to her. “I'm here...”
And then, because it's the truth, because she is dying...
Because it's going to be the last thing she hears:
I tell her this:
“Silver...” I swallow the sob.
I want her to hear what I'm saying, hear it loud and clear.
“Silver...” It's emphatic, that word, as I speak it.
Oh, that beautiful word.
I breathe deep, and with all the conviction I possess, I speak.
I say:
“I love you.”
My world becomes smaller, still.
Smaller and smaller, until it is only those three words.
And then the only one that matters:
Love.
I love her.
And I will always love her.
No matter what happens next: even if we become nothing, even if there is only darkness...
I know.
I will always love her.
I push the pain out of me, because there is no place for it.
I push the pain away from both of us, because there's no room for any of it.
There is only love.
I push everything else out and away, further and further until it's gone from us.
We curl together, curve to curve, and there is darkness all around.
But it doesn't matter.
She's here. She's here with me, and I'm with her.
And that's all I need.
All that's required.
All of it.
Love.
Silv
er 's back arches.
She gasps.
I straighten a little, looking down into her face as her eyes open, open wide.
I gasp, the breath hitching in my throat.
Light.
Her eyes are all light.
Her hands find mine and grip them tightly.
There is strength suddenly in her fingers, in her palms, as she holds me.
There's ferocity here as she turns her light-filled eyes...
She finds me.
“Ella...” Silver breathes, and then she says it again, stronger, with conviction: “Ella...”
She reaches up a hand tentatively. She stares at it, then turns her light-filled eyes to me as she caresses the curve of my cheek with her fingertips. I close my eyes, breathe out, place my hand on top of hers, pressing her to my face.
The vampire beside me that had crumpled forward: he's reaching out toward me now, too. His mouth set in a pain-filled snarl, his claw-like hands scrabbling on the concrete in my direction.
But I don't even see him.
I see nothing else but her.
Because Silver...
Silver rises.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper as she sits fully up. There's a small grimace as she lets go of me momentarily, reaching out and pressing her hand to her belly.
But then we both gaze down at the bare skin of her stomach.
We stare.
The ugly slash in her skin...it's stitching together.
It's healing.
She flicks her gaze my way. There's wonder there, but there's something else, too.
I see it, see it rising in her just as it's rising in me.
Suddenly, with power:
Hope.
The vampire reaches toward me, but then he stops mid-reach, drawing his hand back toward him as if it was bitten.
Because Silver turned her gaze.
And the way she looked at him then had nothing to do with wonder or hope or love...
There's anger, there.
And there's triumph as she wrestles herself out of the chains, up and off of her frame. She lets them drop beside her.
My grandmother stands a few feet from us. Her face is set in a cold, stony expression, and her mouth becomes a thin, hard line. She casts a disgusted glance at all of the people surrounding her. None of them are standing. They remain on the ground in various stages of crumpled pain.
But Marie...
Marie still stands.
And she doesn't seem to be affected by whatever is happening to the others.
She straightens her shoulders, lifts her chin.
And when she speaks to me, I hear the hatred...I hear it spiraling in every last word.
“I am going to get that fucking lock out of you,” she whispers, and then...she smiles.
And there is hatred there, too.
“I'm going to get it out of you if I have to rip out your God damn heart myself,” she hisses.
She squares her shoulders, lowers her head, and she strides toward me.
Unstoppable.
I look up at her as she bears down on me. I know that she's moving too quickly for me to have any reaction, let alone one that would save me.
I know that the knife that was in Silver's stomach is lying on the ground between me and Marie.
I know she sees this clearly.
She's going to snatch it up and the she's going to use it against me, just like she used it against Silver.
I'm going to die.
But Silver stands, too. It's rough, how she rises, and she wavers on her two feet, but she's on them.
She moves slowly, limping, between me and Marie.
And she curls her hands into fists.
Her snarl is low and potent.
“Over my dead body,” she breathes.
And she lifts her arms. She's ready to strike. She's ready to withstand whatever blow Marie was going to give to me.
She's ready...
“And over mine, too,” croaks a familiar voice.
And then there's another reverberating crack.
Marie falters in her stride.
She stumbles one step, two...
And then she's down on her face on the concrete.
And Fanny, tiny, completely naked, but holding a very large, club-like piece of wood and brandishing it aloft, stands behind her prostrate body.
Fanny's eyes dazzling with brightness.
“Sorry it took me so long to get to the party, kiddo...Marie had me...uh...indisposed.” Fanny lets the beam fall to the floor as she casts a worried glance at Silver, and—giving her a once over—nods in satisfaction before crouching down beside me.
“Looks like I got here in time...sort of...” she amends, gazing around at the groaning people. “So, what's happened?”
“I'm...not entirely sure,” Silver replies, but she sinks down into a crouch beside me too. “Ella...what's happened?” she asks, her voice low and gentle as she searches my face.
I take a deep breath in. “I don't...I don't know...” I reach out, press my palms to her belly. “You're healing?”
“I think so, but...it's impossible,” she answers, and then she chuckles weakly. “I mean, I can heal, but I need to draw from the light...and there's none of that here. So...how is it happening?” Her voice is husky, low...full of wonder as she gazes at me. “I'm...not sure.”
I make a sound, and it's partly a sob, partly something else... A cry of joy?
I don't know.
I just gather Silver into my arms, and I embrace her tightly, holding her close, close, closer yet.
Her heart thrums inside of her, powerful.
Alive.
I lift my chin, and I invite her into me. This kiss is hard and fast and there's a little bit of desperate wonder in it, too.
Is this real?
Is this really happening?
But she tastes of Silver, her mouth hot and unyielding, and...
Fanny frowns a little.
She reaches out, taps my shoulder.
“Uh, kiddo...can I see something?” she asks.
But, deep as I am into the kiss, I don't even hear her. And when I don't respond after a couple of taps, Fanny pauses for a long moment, giving me an indulgent smile and a shrug.
Silver and I are merging, I think.
I drink her in, I breathe her deeply...
Silver.
My Silver.
It takes a tiny “ahem” from Fanny eventually for us to disentangle.
“Kiddo, do me a favor, will you?” she asks me then.
Her eyes are still twinkling.
I cough a little, and grin at her. “Sure, Fanny, What can I do for you?” I ask, and then I'm chuckling weakly, too.
Now that Silver has her arms around me, and the kiss has been cut short, well...
I glance around us and the adrenaline pools down through me, into my ankles.
I'm starting to develop a worry.
Whatever's happening to these vampires and werewolves, whoever these people are clutching their stomachs and moaning on the ground...
How do we know it'll keep on happening?
Maybe we're running out of time.
Maybe we should get the hell out of Dodge.
And pronto.
But Fanny's relentless
“Are you listening to me?” she asks. Her voice isn't sharp. It's amused.
But insistent.
“Yes, I'm listening.” I give her a little smile.
She reaches out, and she pinches my cheek.
She actually plucks up my skin between her thumb and forefinger, and she squeezes it tightly. Like I'm five years old.
And she says:
“Ella...can you change into your wolf now, please?”
I gaze at her, perplexed.
I'm about to open my mouth, about to tell her how it did not, in fact, work.
That my grandmother couldn't take the lock off my heart, and—hell—maybe she'd never had any intention of doing it while I
was alive...
But I can't get the words out.
Because my jaw feels funny.
I open my mouth again to reply, but I find that I can't say anything at all.
I can't speak.
There's no pain as I widen my eyes, as I reach out to Fanny...
But there is consternation as I discover that my hands aren't my hands anymore.
I curve forward.
I groan as my body lengthens, shortens, grows...
“Oh, Ella...” Silver whispers, and then...
Then I'm standing.
Standing on four paws.
I gaze down at my claws, the fur on my knuckles, all with wide eyes, my flanks rising and falling quickly. Fanny, still crouched beside me, reaches out and takes my wolf's head in her human hands. Her palms are calming as she cradles my head for a long moment, searching my eyes.
“It's true,” Fanny breathes, and then she looks up to Silver, smile heady, happy...triumphant. “The lock is gone,” she declares.
Gone?
My heart thrums inside of me, beating fast and loud.
Lockless.
A low groan rises from the direction of my grandmother, where she still lays, face down on the concrete. I think she's actually trying to say something, but there's a deep gash in her head from where the wood hit her, and blood is trickling down onto the dirty floor. She can't say anything intelligible.
But, even unable to speak words, it's easy to hear...she still sounded angry.
Silver doesn't even spare a glance for her.
Instead, she's gazing from me to Fanny, her mouth open in astonishment. She spreads her hands, asks, breathless: “how? How is this even possible?”
And then Fanny narrows her eyes, sizes me up.
She gives me a knowing pat and sits back on her heels.
She grins at Silver, shrugs.
“Ella took the lock off her heart herself,” she says matter-of-factly.
Silver's gaze turns to me, her light-filled eyes wide. Again, her mouth opens as she stares down at me in astonishment, opens and shuts, for she doesn't have to ask “how” again.
Fanny keeps talking, answering the unspoken question simply:
“She was able to take off the lock herself for the most powerful reason of all.” She winks at both of us, her expression is soft, warm.
“Because she loves you, Silver.”
Silver tears her gaze from mine, looks to Fanny again, her brows furrowed.
“But...but no one could remove the locks Anna made. That was...that was her superpower.”
But Fanny shrugs again.
“Apparently, the daughter is as strong as the mother. None of us should be surprised by that...consider what our beloved Anna was like.” She chuckles affectionately, and then she pats my shoulder. “Come on, kiddo...become a human again. You're stretching out the waistband on your skirt. It's a nice skirt: I'm assuming you want to keep it mostly intact.”
Wild Hearts Page 21