He didn’t want to think about Darkesh. The Vultures were trained to do two things: devour souls and track enemies of the Valtanyana. If they ever found a Flame, they were to be turned in. Kaliel was obviously the only one they cared about, even though she gave them everything they wanted. Krishani didn’t know the details, but for nine thousand years, Kaliel had been gone. She might have been a danger to them but she was only a girl, a very normal teenage girl. He growled, setting off a bomb, making body parts splatter across the screen.
“They’re going to torture her until she goes nova,” Krishani said, his voice like acid. He kept his eyes on the screen refusing to let emotions plague him. He knew it when he was standing in a field of boulders staring at the hoard of Vultures on the horizon. He knew it when she told him she betrayed the Flames. If they ever found her, they would torture her for all eternity, dissecting her secrets, the very reason for her existence. As a result of her betrayal, he had felt every type of pain for the past nine thousand years. It never went away, not when he possessed a body, not when he devoured a soul, never. It was a dull throb with its own steady pulse, pumping poison through him. Elwen sat on the far side of the couch, resting a mug of tea on the coffee table.
“You found her, we don’t have to stay.”
“Nowhere is safe,” Krishani said, taking a sidelong glance at him.
Elwen put on his best poker face. “I can make a phone call. Someone else can take care of it for you.”
Krishani gritted his teeth, a jaw muscle twitching sporadically. “I know, but …”
“You can’t do it.”
“If I kill her, they’ll find her. If I don’t kill her, they’ll find her.”
“All the more reason to get it over with.”
Krishani paused the game, frustration rising to a boiling point. “Darkesh will turn her into his puppet.” He spit the words out like they were dirty and colored with ulterior motives. Elwen raised his eyebrows and took a sip of tea.
“You want to be a good guy now? Hide her in the Great Library?”
Krishani slammed the controller on the coffee table. “Kemplan works for them.” He stood, pacing the length of the hallway, his hands in his hair, then laced behind his head. His muscles coiled like springs and stiffness skated throughout his limbs. “Why … how?”
Elwen moved to the island and rested his elbow on it, making his body bend at an odd angle. He gripped the mug in the other hand and took another sip. “Maybe Tor …”
“Tor is dead.” Krishani seethed, trying to control his breathing, and the burst of emotions making his heart feel like shrapnel. He pulled at the short strands of hair, covering his fingers in a thin layer of gel. He closed his eyes trying to get the taste of her smell out of his mouth but it was there, violet flowers, permeating his tongue. He dropped his hands to his side and realized they were fists.
Elwen shot the boy a wicked grin. “You can’t kill her.”
Krishani felt lightheaded, the cereal not enough to keep him conscious. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Elwen chortled and stood up straight. “Do it quick and it won’t hurt.”
Krishani blinked, his mind emptying of all the thoughts he had a second ago. Elwen talked about death like it was nothing. Sure, Krishani had seen tons of it in his lifetime but this was Kaliel. He felt disjointed as the words fell out of his mouth. “They’ll keep her awake. They’ll make sure she feels every agonizing second of it. They won’t be merciful.”
Elwen sniffed, and it seemed like he was trying to clear his nasal airway. “She’s only getting what’s coming to her.”
Krishani contemplated strangling him, pressing his fingers around his trachea and squeezing until his face was beet red, but he didn’t move. He glared at Elwen, his eyes like poisonous arrows. “I don’t know.” He turned on his heel and stormed down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him.
***
Chapter 10
Stalker Theory
Maeva sat on the pier dangling her legs over the edge. Black reflective water, tiny ripples splitting the smooth surface, distorting the outlines of evergreens in her backyard. She drove to the harbor in a daze, feeling like the world around her was behind a thick screen. Sounds dull, vision blurry, fingers tinged with numbness. She leaned towards the water, an urge to pour herself into the depths battling against the inherit fear she’d had since her concussion. She could look at it, canoe in it, and accept it was everywhere, but she couldn’t swim in it. Lake of the Woods was a mix of mountains and marshlands and thousands of tiny islands and lakes. She appreciated the beauty of the land and loved the trails in the forest, but the water—she couldn’t do it.
Her dad said fear was silly. He tried tossing her in the water when she was seven but she screamed and ran into the house, huddling in the corner of the kitchen until he let it go. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling there was something in the water, creatures willing to strangle the life out of her as the sky dimmed to nothingness.
Sitting on the pier was a way to cope with everything. She glanced at her canoe and felt a lump in the back of her throat. Nothing made sense anymore. She was just a girl as far as she knew. The boy didn’t have a reason to hate her, but everything in the way he looked at her, touched her, and spoke to her said there was something abnormal about him. She gritted her teeth and glanced at the back door to their small house, contemplating whether she should tell her dad about it. He wasn’t even home yet, his motor boat parked at St. Mary Harbor. She let out a breath as the last dying embers of the sun slid over the horizon. The back door banged shut and Maeva’s eyes snapped to the door. Scott hurried down the walk, pulling a black sweater over his white t-shirt. He had a twenty in his mouth, which he grabbed when he had the sweater on.
“You sad about probation?” he asked, stepping onto the pier. Maeva shifted a little so she was clearly out of his way, drawing her legs to her chest and hugging them. She shook her head, sending locks of curly black hair rustling.
“It’s only three months,” she muttered as Scott stepped into his canoe.
Scott laughed but it wasn’t funny. “So you’re off the hook in November then huh? Isn’t that kind of pointless?”
Maeva didn’t want to do this. Scott had a snarky comment, comeback, or joke for everything. He went from being a twelve-year-old prankster to this fifteen-year-old punk she couldn’t stand. The worst thing about it was the way her mom believed in him, like he was going to be a doctor. They didn’t think she’d amount to anything, and clearly thought her music was going nowhere. In November the lake would be frozen. She didn’t want to give Scott ammunition. “Where are you going?”
“Dairy Queen,” he said, picking up his paddle. She raised an eyebrow. “Tait told me to come.” He sounded like a follower, paying homage to the biggest jock in town. She didn’t jab him about his choices, she really didn’t want to hear what he’d have to say about hers in return. She gripped her knees tighter and looked out across the water, rocky shores lined by trees in the distance.
“Who’s driving?”
“Sarah.”
Maeva swiveled so she could see him better. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Scott laughed and pushed the canoe into open water, it rocked slightly sending Maeva off balance. Her hand flashed out to steady herself. “She’s just a girl. I got sports scholarships to worry about!” He yelled as he faded from sight.
“Curfew is ten you know!” Maeva shouted, standing. She waited, hoping he heard her, knowing at least if he was out of earshot he wouldn’t be able to fire anything vile at her.
“Mom said midnight!”
She scoffed and shook her head. Typical parenting, give the boy free reign to go anywhere, keep the girl locked inside. She silently padded down the concrete path and went in. She tossed her shoes on the rack behind the door and grabbed a glass of water. She poked her head into the living room, her mom watching some reality show on the flat screen above the fireplace.
“Can I use the computer?”
Her mom didn’t look at her. “No, I’m watching something.”
Maeva sighed. “I have some homework.” She was lying but she didn’t want to call Steph to talk, she really didn’t know what to say. Skype was better, they could video chat and she could see Steph’s reaction to her apparent psycho stalker.
Grace sighed. “Your dad left his laptop on the desk, you can take it downstairs.”
Maeva felt a surge of relief. She tiptoed behind the other black couch and grabbed the laptop from the cluttered desk. There was an old style computer, tower, boxy monitor, mouse pad. The rest of the desk had all sorts of things, a pair of Scott’s hockey gloves, the outer padding ripped. She guessed it was on her mom’s list of things to sew. She grabbed the power cord and snuck downstairs, being careful not to disturb her mom again. If there was something she knew about Grace it was that being invisible was better than being on her radar.
Soon she had Skype running and Steph’s little icon was green. “Maeva!” A little box popped up, interrupting her before she had a chance to say hi. She rolled her eyes and typed in the box.
“I’m alive.”
“Are you in the living room?”
“No, laptop in my room.”
“Good because I have so much to tell you.”
Maeva tried not to scoff; Steph always had a lot to say. She shifted so the laptop was on top of a pillow. Her arms hurt where his fingers dug into her flesh and her shoulders were a bit sore from where he’d slammed her against the wall. She stretched, working out the kinks and went back to what Steph was saying. It was a long message, but skimming over it, she learned two things. The boy had classes with Steph, and he refused to talk to anyone. Unless a teacher called on him to answer a question he was completely mute. Fear rumbled in Maeva’s heart, guilt attacking her for no apparent reason. She rubbed her eyes trying to clear the incomprehensible emotions and typed in the little box.
“He talked to me.” She knew she was going to regret this. Steph was friends with her but also simultaneously friends with Colleen and Kelly, girls that willingly joined cheer team. She hoped Steph wasn’t going down that road. She waited for the response, which popped up quickly, a string of exclamation points, confused emoticons, and capitalized letters: OMG. She sighed.
“Don’t get so excited. He only said three words.”
Silence. Maeva waited while Steph processed. “Oh. What did he say?”
Maeva’s stomach churned, a thousand radioactive butterflies beating their wings against her insides. She didn’t know if she should lie or tell the truth. He could have said something like “How are you?” or “Can you help me?” Or “Do you know where the gas station is?” or anything a normal boy could have said. Instead his actual words pounded the forefront of her mind making her feel just as deranged as he was for being obsessed with him.
She put her fingers on the keys, chewing on her bottom lip. “He said, ‘You don’t remember.’”
Steph didn’t respond for a while and Maeva put the laptop in front of her and laid down, an arm above her head. She looked at the panels of drop ceiling and ran the phrase over and over in her mind. His eyes were accusing, his posture threatening. The laptop beeped and she sat, crawling over to read the message.
“That’s random.”
“I know.”
“So he’s officially scary as fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
Maeva thought for a moment, revisiting her train of thoughts on the dock. She could tell the principal, but he couldn’t protect her. Her parents wouldn’t do anything, nor could they. The police wouldn’t care because being threatening and scary wasn’t enough to arrest someone. Kenora was small, spread out, forests and lakes surrounding them. Really, Maeva wasn’t safe anywhere, and unless she proved he was stalking her she had no reason to alert the authorities.
“Nothing,” she typed.
“Aw, well I’ll do what I can to keep you away from him.”
“Thanks.”
Maeva sat back, staring at her dresser. She crossed the room and opened the box, pulling the golden pocket watch into her palm. She clutched it while Steph typed a monologue, recounting every detail of her chance encounters with Tait. To say she was a little Tait obsessed was an understatement.
“What do you think?” Steph asked.
Maeva was pulled out of her daze. She reread the recent messages, a detailed plan to accidentally bump into Tait at school on screen. She thought it was risky and very cliché. “What if it doesn’t work?”
Steph sent a frowning emoticon. “I’ll look like an idiot.”
“Exactly,” Maeva typed.
“What do I do to get his attention?”
Maeva sighed. She wanted to ask Steph how to be invisible so mystery boy didn’t catch her again. “I don’t know.” She stared at the chat window for a long time. Steph didn’t say anything more and she yawned. It was eleven thirty. “Sorry, I have to go,” she typed, figuring Steph got into another heated conversation with someone else and forgot she was there. She closed the laptop and put it on the floor. She shed her skinny jeans and laid down in her tank top and underwear.
O O O
Maeva thought she recognized the forest, but it played tricks with her. Branches tangled above her, making her duck and twist to get through them. Her heart hammered and she was out of breath but she couldn’t stop running. She crashed through the brush, afraid of the thing following her. Her foot snagged on her shoelace and she collapsed, splaying out in the mud, every limb feeling paralyzed. Blinding fear won out against pain and she forced herself up, something prickly stinging her palm. She wiped her hand on her jeans and kept running. When her lungs burst for air she didn’t stop, when her stomach made a sickening squishing sound she ignored it. The urge to run rocketed through her, making it impossible to stop. She darted down a path on the left, her feet skipping over rocks and cresting hills and jumping off a shallow cliff. She landed in a bed of moss and glanced behind her, seeing nothing but white eyes crackling with lightning. Her stomach dropped and she screamed, cowering against the stone. She pressed her back into shale moss covered rock, holding her arms up to shield her face as she waited for the man with the white lightning eyes to end her. She continued backing up until rocks scraped along her back and she was thrown off balance, like the forest tilted and she was on her back. She refused to open her eyes, letting everything spin out of control until a bone-chilling explosion sent spasms through her.
She gasped, opening her eyes, nothing but darkness surrounding her. Groggy, she reached for the lamp on her bedside table and clicked it on. Aches rested in her muscles and her heart thrummed like it was still dreaming. She forced herself to sit, dragging in a breath and letting it out slowly. She cleared her eyes and blinked. Every time she closed her eyes she was in the forest, the sound of her own feet clapping against the mud. She pushed the comforter aside and crept upstairs, filling a glass of water. She took a few gulps and set the glass on the counter, her hand trembling as the glass made a loud clunk. She glanced behind her but the house was eerily quiet. Pushing the basement door open, she descended the stairs, passing the laundry room. She used to be afraid the furnace was a monster that would eat her and quickened her steps past the door. She nestled into bed and glanced at the books lined up on her headboard. They were stacked horizontally so she could read the spines without tilting her head to the side.
She pulled out her copy of Alanna and turned to the middle. Myles, the minor knight, ordered everyone out of the room so Alan-Alanna could help Prince Jonathan, heir to the kingdom. All of the palace healers’ power had been drained and Alan, though he was only a lowly squire, was trained in the healing arts and had the Gift. He-she alone could help Jonathan against the fever caused by sorcery.
Maeva skimmed through the text, but it didn’t calm the heavy feelings inside her. Alanna felt guilty for denying her gift and letting Francis
die. Even though she wasn’t the one who plagued him with the fever she felt responsible. She vowed not to make that mistake again.
Maeva read the line over and over, the words resonating in her bones. Making a mistake again, feeling guilty for something that wasn’t her fault. She shot the flare gun by accident; she didn’t mean to burn the forest. And yet, her stomach shook and when she closed her eyes all she heard was the rumbling of an eruption in the distance.
***
Chapter 11
School and Daggers
Mr. Weir had a thing for writing his name on the board. Maeva stared at the jagged chalk letters, the W drawn in a hurry, followed by a slanted E, a dotted I and an R with a tail that extended well past where it was supposed to. The classroom buzzed with chatter, phones going off with little dings and donks every two seconds, bags shuffling, people muttering to each other. Maeva closed her eyes, her head drooping towards her desk. In the past week she managed to avoid the boy from the forest. In fact, she hadn’t seen him around school at all but Steph faithfully updated her on his whereabouts. He usually showed up halfway through the morning and left sometime before last period. Classic skipper. She glanced at the empty seat on her left and pulled out her binder, slapping it on the standard black tabletop. The chair was an ugly gray plastic, another standard issue.
“Is this everyone?” Mr. Weir asked; his hands on his hips. He was short, sandy blonde hair combed back, glasses, and faint blonde stubble along his double chin. He wore a beige sweater vest and khaki pants. He pulled the sweater vest over his bulging midsection and sat in his chair, moving the glasses to the end of his nose and squinting at his attendance list. Maeva yawned and tried to hide it as he called out names, ticking them off as people raised their hands or grunted a response. There were a couple of names he called every day that never answered. Ten times and those people would be booted from the class.
Mercy Page 10