"Millie." My voice sounds too much like a sob. I fall at her side, the blood soaking into my pants, my hands push at her soul.
Not yet. It's not her time yet. She owes me five years. She's too good for this. She's too good for me. She's too good to die.
No. I won't let her go. I won't give her to the Otherworld. No. No. No!
The more I push at her soul, the more I try to shove it into her broken body, the more her soul pushes back. Even in death, Millie is stubborn. Her light starts to seep into me, the door to the other world cracking open against my will.
I shout, peeling her off of me, throwing her soul back to her body, and standing to stumble away. I shut the door again. No. No she will not go! I will not let her! When my back hits the edge of the cliff I know what I have to do. I pull on the tether inside me that keeps me connected to my power in the other world.
"I'll do anything," I whisper into the air. Out of all the desperate people I’ve met in my life, I know I’ve out done them all now.
Above me, there's the bang of a gun and the shriek of sirens. I don't listen to them. I focus my attention until all I can feel is the heat of hell burning at my side. Turning, I meet the dark embers of a pitch black gaze watching me with a curious intensity. My father watches in silence, his skin the color of coal only broken up with red jagged lines that glisten like lava breaking through rock. Slowly, his attention shifts from me down to Millie’s body. He sighs angrily. Smoke curls off of him in two pillars, emerging from the small horns that protrude from the top of his scalp.
Every time I see him it's startling how much we look alike. It's not his unnatural skin tone or the horns, nor the way the darkness clings to his very form. It's the cut of his cheekbones and the frame of his body, the shape of our eyes. The only real thing I ever got from my mother was my humanity. Even the way he looks down at Millie with disapproval I've worn before.
"What makes her so special?" he asks. When he speaks you can hear the shouting of tortured souls behind him. He may appear as if he's with me—standing directly in front of me—but the devil is no fool; he knows where he is the most powerful and he would not dare leave the pits of hell. The demon that stands before me now is only a projection of his power. And even using just a fraction of his ability to stand before me he is incredibly strong.
I will my hands not to shake as I steady my voice and blink back what might have been tears in my eyes refusing to show just how weak Millicent Acker has made me. I stand my ground and answer. "She's everything I'm not."
My father chuckles at that, amused because he knows just how foolish I've become. Even forty-five years later I'm still nothing but a child to him. "What is her life worth?" Those never ending onyx pools of his watch me waiting for an answer.
I know what Millie is worth to me. Even if I can't be sure I'm worth the same to her. I force myself to answer. Even knowing that I'm damning myself.
"All of mine."
It is the truth…Millie is worth the eternity that I could live. Millie is worth every human year I could strive to exist for on this plane of existence. For once in my life, perhaps I am not the selfish being I know I am.
My father barely reacts. The slightest uptick of his lips is the most he gives to show that he is pleased. "It's a deal." He extends his hand and when our fingers touch our deal will be set in stone. So I reach out my hand and take his in mine. "All of your life,” my father repeats.
"She's worth all of mine."
His skin is like leather left in the sun against mine, dry and scorching hot. The feeling worms its way into my veins, stinging up my hand and into my chest. Each breath I take propels the feeling into my limbs.
Call it a deal. Call it a bargain. Call it whatever you like. There is power in a promise.
My father loves nothing more than to have someone's soul for all of eternity and I just gave him mine. He lets go and his mouth finally lifts into a full blown grin revealing the jagged ends of his pointed teeth. The spiritual door inside of me is painfully closed, knocking the air from my lungs as he shoves from my side.
A shudder travels down my spine as he touches Millie’s soul, the light of it dimming while his hands are on her. He shoves her back into her body with the cracking sound of lightning. His hands lift from her body, his physical form disappears leaving me with only the sound of his voice inside my head and the snapping of Millie's bones forging back together.
"You will be mine for all of eternity, my son. The bargain is done."
19
After The Deal
Millie
Air rushes into my lungs feeling as cold as ice even though I can feel the hot sun beating down on my skin. My body shakes with each gasping breath I take. My mind fights to claw through a heaviness that has settled on my thoughts. I have to drag my consciousness back to reality.
My eyelids are tightly squeezed shut as I remember the feeling of free falling. Fingers sprawling out against the rock reassures me that I'm no longer plunging to the earth but safely on the ground.
I crack a single eye looking through my lashes. A looming figure blocks the sun from view, his face cast in shadow. Not one figure…two? Through my blurred vision, I can still make out the onyx gaze that locks onto mine and the sharp pointed teeth of a devious smile. A smile that breaks my body out in a damp nervous sweat.
Blinking away the fog, the two figures become one. Rumi. Just Rumi. The sun halos him and his hair hangs around his face, lips cursed with an easy smile. Only the shine of his eyes shows any sort of concern he might have for me.
A bloodied handprint stains the top of my dress as I slap a hand to my chest just to be sure that I'm still in my own body and not a soul floating away. Because for a minute—certainly not longer than that—I’d been above myself. Out of my mind. Almost gone.
Under my palm, I can feel the steady beating of my heart. "I died," I rasp up to Rumi.
His brows veer together. An unconvincing innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I blink rapidly as what little understanding I have for what just happened comes barreling through my mind. "I died,” I repeat with more certainty.
Rumi rolls his eyes and stretches out a hand to help me up. "It was only for maybe five minutes. No need to have a fit about it." His cheeks are rosy, but otherwise, he’s cool, calm, and annoyingly collected.
"I didn't pass through?"
New shadows break up the daylight, gangly bodies of the sirens taking flight in the sky circling overhead like vultures waiting to descend upon their prey. Rumi glances up at them and when he does I finally take his hand. Just above the crook of his thumb something like black ink starts. The skin around it is painfully red. Jagged lines travel up until they are hidden under his sleeve.
"We need to get Boston. He isn't dead yet but I can feel it lingering nearby."
Back on my feet, he points us toward large boulders stacked against each other, a trail that will take us back up to the sirens’ nest. I shiver, remembering the searing pain of their claws sinking into the muscle of my shoulders. Reaching a hand back, I touch the skin on my back that should be bloody and raw, instead, it's fresh and new.
What has he done? I tremble and Rumi puts a reassuring hand between my shoulder blades to guide me up. He doesn't speak but stays within arm’s length of me as we start up the cliff again. I swear I can hear my heart hammering inside of my ears.
Some of the sirens take flight. My hands tremble against the rock as I remember the climb and then the drop. The wind blows and my eyes squeeze shut. My hair fans across my face almost like it had been when my body had been cutting through the air as I fell.
"I've got you. You're not going anywhere," Rumi huffs next to me. He extends his arm, continuing to keep it at my back as my only reassurance.
I crack open my eyes to watch as the shape of the sirens circle overhead. Their shadows still look angelic though I know they are anything but. Trying to still the worry of my mind, and the adrenaline fueled beating
of my heart, I count them. Any beast I see becomes a number in my head.
One. Two. Rumi takes my hand and pulls me up to him.
Three. Four. Five. I scramble up the cliff, the lip of the sirens’ cave finally within reach.
Six. Seven. His shoulders are tight, the long brown coat that hangs from his lean form rustles at his side, kicked up in the breeze. Rumi's fingers find the edge and he pulls himself up.
"Rumi! I need a weapon!" Jac yells and a siren screeches somewhere behind her.
His body disappears and it's just me clinging to the rock alone. My limbs quake with the realization.
I have to keep moving. For Boston...he's so close.
Overhead the sun is blocked out by a figure who hangs over the lip of rock. A long arm reaches for me. Calloused fingers wrap around my forearm and Rumi grunts as he pulls me to him.
I scamper up next to him, flinging pebbles in my wake, and gritting my teeth so hard my jaw starts to ache. Both his arms wrap around my body, clinging to me until I can feel every weapon strapped to him cut into my skin.
A scream, not animal but not quite human either, tears through the air. I flinch as the noise bounces against my eardrums. I'm still trembling in Rumi's arms as the siren who had dived toward me passes by and I count the others in the cave surrounding Boston.
Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
Rumi pulls a gun from his waist holding it behind me, and with his other hand, he intertwines his fingers in my hair, pulling me to his chest and covering my ear. The pop of the gun rings inside of my ears despite his attempt to protect me.
The two crewmembers swing their blades at the sirens that swoop in and out of the cave. Jac plunges her blade, the sword that had once been on Rumi's hip, through a siren spilling out metallic gold blood. She topples backward as it lurches toward her. Bones scatter at her feet, scraping against the rock.
Tarnished metal is thrust toward me and Rumi offers me the handle of a gun. Power radiates off of him, making my skin prickle with excitement. His brown eyes are wide as he watches me.
"Pull this to cock the gun." His thumb presses back a small lever on the back end until it audibly clicks. "There is a bullet in the chamber. When you pull that trigger you better mean it."
I nod, taking the weapon in my hands. I've never held a gun before and it's surprisingly heavy in my grip. The warmth of Rumi's hands and his steady body next to mine disappears as he lunges into the cave. His shadows follow him like a heavy cape.
This is it, Millie. This is what you came here for. Go get your brother, I tell myself. Though, honestly, I didn't expect this to be so...terrifying. I've already died once, I know I have. What's to say I won't die again? This time more permanently?
My pulse races inside my ears and my chest swells with fresh excitement. I curl my fingers tighter against the handle of the gun, one finger straightening to hover by the trigger. Despite my shaking legs and my ragged breath, I get my legs under me and stand. I'm alive, I remind myself. This is what it feels like to be living. That energy runs its course in my veins, fueling my movements.
Rumi moves with all the authority of hell. He drives a dagger up into the body of a siren in one smooth movement. He was born and bred for this. And when he looks as if the gates of hell have opened up inside of him and he's finally letting his demons out, all I can do is marvel.
A pebble rolls to my feet, stopping against the toe of my boot. I drag my gaze up to the siren that breaks apart from the two warring crew members and turns its body toward me. Long nails curl off the tip of its toes, dirt gathered thickly underneath. Every step toward me those claws click against the rock. When it snarls, the decaying scent of its breath clouds in the air between us passing over the pointed marks of its snapping teeth. Teeth made to pull flesh from bones.
The world around me goes quiet. Rumi's two men and Jac grunt and shout back and forth to each other. A siren screeches as a sword cuts through its wings and it teeters out of the sky. A few other monsters lay in puddles of their own blood. Rumi's shadows push the snarling creatures surrounding Boston away, and with one hand he crushes the windpipe of the nearest siren.
All of that... all of them...are distant to me now. My surroundings become reduced to this one singular moment. I lift my arms pointing the gun at the siren.
When you pull that trigger you better mean it.
And I do. I've never meant something more in my entire life. I've come for my brother and I'm not leaving without him.
My finger meets the trigger. My whole body jerks with the feeling of the bullet leaving the barrel, the momentum forcing my arms to bounce up toward the sky, gun still in hand. The boom the weapon makes brings me back.
A boney, long fingered hand reaches for the hole in its shoulder where it oozes liquid gold. The prettiest thing about these things is their blood. A wide smile cuts across its face as it starts for me again. Only a couple of feet away now.
Lifting the gun, I push the lever Rumi had showed me down to cock it. I aim. I fire. My eyes squeeze shut when the gun pops again and my body flinches with the movement. Warmth splatters across my cheeks. Lowering the gun, I open my eyes watching the siren sputter, spitting flecks of the blood that gurgles up his throat at me. The flesh of his chest is split open, the bullet, my shot, taking its life. Its body crumbles to the ground, those wide depthless eyes turning up to the clouds as it draws its last breath.
"Millie!" Rumi's deep voice barrels through the cave, bouncing off the walls.
Jac swings her sword high over her head with a loud grunt as she shoves the blade into the neck of her opponent. The weapon doesn't make it all the way through but lodges at the halfway point. She glares, her dark skin glistening with golden specks of blood.
A few of the sirens bolt forward, their wings stretching to expand in what little space they have as they charge toward me and I run toward them. The only things between me, Rumi, and my brother.
Wind hits me right in the face and I shrink back as they fly overhead, their wicked clawed feet narrowly missing me. I don't look back to see if they'll come back for another try at me. I don't do anything but run through the cave and the now clear path to Boston.
Rumi cradles his limp body in his arms. Darkness pulses around them, a living breathing thing fed and fueled by the lives taken today. Boston's arms hang from his sides, his mouth partially open, and his breathing shallow.
Finally, my attention lands on Rumi and the way he purses his lips.
"He reeks of death. It isn't far off."
20
After The Deal
Millie
The lower deck smells like body odor and mold. It's musty, tart, and so thick in the air, I can almost taste it on my tongue. Under me, the boards are damp. Moisture soaks through the trousers Jac gave me to wear while we wash the blood from my dress.
None of that matters though. None of it is a bother when Boston breathes deeply and steadily next to me. Deep chestnut colored hair is spread across his pillow. When his green eyes open slowly, they pin on me.
Every ounce of air in my lungs leaves my body in one strong exhale. I lean forward, squeezing his hand that I'd held since he'd been brought down here and Jac had stitched up his few wounds. When Boston smiles up at me I nearly crumble completely.
He's safe. He's here. He's alive, I repeat to myself.
My fingers tremble and the feeling is soothed only when Boston squeezes my hand back. His skin is paler than normal and his forehead is slicked with sweat though he shivers slightly. Signs of a fever that I pray pass quickly.
"Millie," he rasps.
"Boston." I smooth his hair from his forehead and his brows pull together in a frown. After a few heartbeats, he pushes up on his elbows and winces as he feels the stitches pull. One set across his shoulders and then another across one thigh.
"Ouch."
"Lay back down. You're dehydrated and starving." An old leather bound canteen waits next to me, filled with fresh water. The cap squeaks as I unscr
ew the lid. "Here, take a sip."
The sea rocks us and the sound of the waves against the side of the ship is the only noise as I bring the canteen to his lips and let him drink. His throat bobs as he takes the liquid greedily. When I pull it away, his lips follow but then he sags back against the small bed mat one of the crewmen had given up for him.
Since setting sail I haven't seen anything of Rumi. Presumably, he's busy plotting our course and giving out commands, but by the looming smokey shadows I know there's something more going on. I try not to think about it.
"You look so much like Mother right now," Boston says quietly before dragging his gaze away to look up at the ceiling where the boards creak as the crew works. "How are you here?"
I've never much thought I looked like my mother but I know she's beautiful. The way Father talks about their courtship makes her sound like some prized calf and with that thought, I have to fight off my frown.
"I snuck away."
"Father will be frantic." He bites at his cheek. "He's always liked you best."
I snort. "Me? He's practically auctioning me off to the highest bidder!"
"That's only because of your age, our fortune, and you know...rules."
Ah, yes, the rules of society that plague us so.
"I hate those rules."
"I know you do."
A thick fog of silence falls between us. I settle my hands into my lap, trying to think about anything other than our father, other than the disappointment of never being the daughter he wanted.
Too loud. Too wild. Too much. Maybe I'm not too much...maybe everyone else is just not enough.
"What were you thinking, Boston? Why did you do it?" I sigh, tearing my gaze back to him.
Boston watches me with quiet speculation before speaking. "I, uh..." His hands clench the thin blanket over him. "I didn't want you to feel like a burden on the family. I thought if I could...find this treasure...that I could save the family. I could save us all. Maybe I could make Father proud."
Chasing Boston Page 15