by Anna Hill
Realization hit the boy like a battering ram to the stomach. His vision blurred as tears welled up in the corners of his distraught eyes. “No! I can’t lose you!”
“They’re coming for me, for us. They’re getting close. I don’t know when, but they will find us.”
“No,” the boy’s voice croaked as tears fell freely down his trembling cheeks.
“I’m so grateful to have had this time with you.” The man lifted his hands from the boy’s shoulders and lovingly wiped away his son’s cascading tears. “I’ve dreamt of being able to know you since the moment you were taken away from me.”
“No, please! Please don’t leave me again.”
“I’m very proud of you, Ricky. No matter what happens, always remember that.”
* * *
“Stop! Get out! Get out of my head!”
Rebecca was startled awake as Maverick’s hand was jerked roughly away from hers. In a panic, she looked over to see him grasping tightly onto his head, scrunching his eyes up as if in immense pain. “Make it stop!” he yelled as he rocked forcefully back and forth. “Get out! Make it stop!”
Rebecca jumped up from her chair, realizing what she’d done. She could still feel the rush of adrenaline from using her Feiceann ability coursing through her veins. She’d slipped; she’d allowed the darkness to cloud her mind, without even realizing she’d done so. Fear overwhelmed her and took hold of her body. She hadn’t meant to use it. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.
In terrified haste, Rebecca turned and ran, throwing the door wide as she sped out of the room and into the main entryway. Taking two steps at a time, she bounded up to the second floor, never slowing until she reached the door at the far end of the west wing. Grabbing the handle, she swung the door open and threw herself inside the room, slamming it shut behind her. Then she collapsed, straight down to the floor, her tears overpowering her as her entire body shook with terror.
Chapter Five
“All of them?” The enraged voice thundered throughout the long throne room, causing her strength to falter briefly. She had been dreading this moment for days, desperately avoiding the morbid reality of what happened, deeply fearful of the consequences of her actions. And yet, in the end, she knew she had to be the one to deliver the grave news, not only because of her rank, but because, no matter her personal conviction, it was her family that was to blame.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Her hands locked behind her back and she stood tall, knocking her heels together and forcing her voice to remain even as she spoke. “We searched the surrounding forest thoroughly. They were all slaughtered.”
“How? How can this be?” His intense fury had turned his face a deep red, spittle flying from his lips as he roared down at her. “How can she exist? Why wasn’t she killed?”
Taking a slow, deep breath, Neala centered herself before meeting eyes with the irate King. “She will die, I promise you. But we have to wait. We have to go after her when we are sure that we can kill her.”
“I will kill her!” he bellowed down at his incompetent commander. “I will be the one to end her evil! As my ancestors did before me, I will rid the earth of her kind!”
Neala remained silent, her anxious gaze dropping to the floor. The abominable girl, her niece, was strong, incredibly so. She had miscalculated this and led the entire Elite force to their death. She would not make another misstep.
“Yes, you will,” Neala assured her furious King as she looked back up at him. “But you must wait. We have to be ready this time. We have to be sure she’s going to die when we attack her.”
The King’s heavy breathing began to slow as he stood up straight, his immense figure towering over Neala. He set his features into a penetrating glare as he locked his burning eyes on hers, pinning her to the spot. “The Unworthy will die,” his voice was harsh as he growled out the words. “I will have her head.”
Chapter Six
“You gonna hide in here forever?”
Tearing her eyes away from the window she’d been staring out of since she’d awoken a few hours prior, Rebecca found Trysten standing in front of the open door to her room.
Seeing him flooded her mind with images of another young boy she’d witnessed the night before. The boy she’d watched without permission. The memory her ability had stolen. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she felt a shiver pass through her as Maverick’s terrified screams for relief echoed once more within her ears.
“Sorry, I just needed some time alone,” Rebecca answered forlornly.
“That’s OK,” Trysten crossed the room to where Rebecca sat on the floor in front of the giant window. He slumped down next to her and leaned back against the cold glass. “Liam sent me to find you for training today.”
Rebecca’s eyes went wide, both disbelief and hope flooding her at once, “Liam wants to train with me?”
“No, Liam told me that you and I should train today. He’s gone back into the woods to patrol again.”
Rebecca shifted her eye line back toward the window, attempting to hide her sadness. “Oh…OK…”
“I told him you didn’t need training though,” Trysten continued, ignoring Rebecca’s misery. “I mean, after what you did at the safe house that day, how could someone like you need training? Right?”
Rebecca scooted slightly away from him, pulling her knees tightly up against her chest. “Sure,” she responded, her voice a dejected whisper.
Trysten shifted his weight, finally sensing her dark mood, “Is everything OK?”
It was touching, how genuine the sound of concern was in Trysten’s voice. Rebecca almost wanted to tell him what she was going through. She needed someone else to know the torment that was tearing her apart from the inside out. How at every moment she was scared that her ability would take over, would cause her to do the things she feared above all else. She wished she could tell him the truth of her terror that this evilness was who she truly was. That this corrupt force living inside of her was who she was meant to be all along. That it was only a matter of time before it consumed her.
Rebecca hung her head, letting her chin rest on her knees. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. “I just need some time alone to think.”
“OK,” Trysten said hesitantly. After a moment, he stood up, staring down at her. “You should know something, Becs.” Rebecca turned and looked up at him, surprised to hear him use her nickname. Only a few people ever used it, most of whom she feared she would never see again. “What you did that day at the safe house, it saved us. We all know it. They were bad men, very bad men. They were going to kill us, but you stopped them. Thank you.”
Without another word, Trysten turned and left the room, leaving her door ajar behind him.
It was so easy to look at Trysten and think of him as just a little boy, but she, of all people, knew what he’d been through. How he’d been forced to mature much faster than his young face would suggest.
Rebecca brought her chin back down to her knees. She knew he was right, that Cailleach was right, that everyone who had assured her she’d done what was necessary that day was right. What she’d done had saved the crew. But that knowledge did nothing to calm her panic. What tormented her was not if what’d she’d done was the correct choice, but if she’d made that choice merely for the sensation of murdering those men. Had she killed to save the crew? Or had she killed to fulfill her Feiceann desire?
Rebecca closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She released the air slowly, allowing it to pass gradually out of her lungs. No amount of training with the crew would answer this question for her. No one could help her find the truth of who she was. She would have to face these realities alone. Only she could face the inner demons that haunted her every thought. Only she could discover who her soul truly craved to become.
* * *
Noon had come and gone, and Rebecca had grown restless--agitated by a growing urge to spring up from her curled position on the bedroom floor.
For hours she’d receded into the darkest parts of her mind where her strength had begun to falter, thinking of nothing but her inner pain and torment. But she was tired of it. Tired of being frightened, of pitying herself, of constantly questioning her every thought and urge.
In one swift motion, Rebecca rushed to where her trainers and winter jacket lay beside the bed. She needed to fill her lungs with fresh air and clear her mind. She refused to sit here and pity herself any longer.
As soon as she was dressed, she strode determinedly through the hallway, down the long staircase, and across the large entryway to the massive front doors.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Rebecca was just about to swing the large door open when the voice stopped her. “Outside,” she said sternly without turning around. “I don’t care if Faolan has forbidden it, I need to get out of this house.”
“You and me both!” Owen bounded up beside her, zipping up his coat. “This house may be huge, but it still feels like a prison.”
Rebecca smiled up at him and nodded, “Exactly.”
“Alright, I’m bundled up, open the door.” Owen pulled on his gloves and braced himself against the gust of freezing air that swirled around them as Rebecca swung the door inward.
Rebecca filled her lungs until they almost burst, the cool air stinging her nostrils as she inhaled. She took a step outside, turning her head slightly to glance back at Owen, “It really is gor--”
Bright, white snow suddenly enveloped the side of her face as a hefty snowball collided harshly with her cheek. For a moment, Rebecca was paralyzed with shock, her mouth wide, agape at Owen, whose maniacal laughter was making it difficult for him to remain standing. Her skin prickled as bits of the frozen snow slipped off her face and slid down her skin beneath her jacket and shirt.
“You!” she finally mustered, pointing an accusatory finger at Owen, “You did this!”
“How--how could I have done that?” Owen protested between gasps of laughter.
“I don’t know, but--” Rebecca suddenly dropped to the ground, barely dodging yet another flying projectile hurtling straight at her head.
When Rebecca looked up, she burst into laughter. Owen now stood frozen, his face barely visible under the thick snowball plastered across it.
“That’s it!” he roared as he wiped his face clean. “You’re gonna get it now!”
Leaping over Rebecca’s flattened form, Owen raced to the front yard. She turned and watched him run through the snowbanks as Aeden and Trysten began pelting him unrelentingly with a rampage of snowballs.
“Rebecca!” he yelled as he dove behind a small snowdrift. “The battle lines are drawn! We must win this waaaaaar!”
Any thought of her prior sorrow or fear was swept away with the wind that whipped across her face and she dashed full speed into the snow toward where Owen was crouched. She could hear the snowballs as they whizzed past her speeding form, the sound mixing with the shouts from a riled-up Owen who was hastily constructing as many snowballs as possible. The bright winter sun softly warm her reddened cheeks, even as the bitter chill of the outdoor air prickled her skin. As she slid down onto the snow beside Owen, exhilaration and delight flooded her body. It had been far too long since she’d allowed herself to smile.
“For the kingdom,” Owen avowed, extending a hand for her to shake, a mock look of valor upon his face.
“For the kingdom,” she repeated as she clasped his hand tightly.
With a loud battle cry, she and Owen spun onto their knees and remorselessly fired snowballs at their opponents.
They played for hours, hurtling snowballs until their hands were frozen solid, their lungs burned, and their arms were so sore they could barely lift them.
From where she was lying, breathless in the snow, Rebecca smiled up at Trysten as he walked toward her. Steam was rising from his face and neck as the snow that stuck to his skin was melted by his overheated body. He was soaked to the bone, they all were.
“Truce,” Aeden offered as he walked up behind Trysten.
“Truce?” Owen laughed from where he too was recovering, lying just a few feet from Rebecca. “You wish! You lost, face it.”
With a soft thump, Aeden fell onto the snow beside his best friend, “I’d fight you on that, but I don’t even have the energy to raise my arms right now.”
“I can’t feel my fingers,” Trysten sat down near Rebecca, blowing hot gusts of steamy air onto his red fingers. “I’m not sure I’ll ever feel them again.”
The other three laughed, raising their hands to inspect their own frozen fingers.
“Cocoa,” Owen slowly began to sit up. “This definitely calls for some cocoa.”
“Hmmmm, with little marshmallows floating on top,” Aeden mused as he too rolled over and began to stand.
“I’m down for that.” Rebecca had skipped breakfast that morning and, with the mention of food, she suddenly realized just how hungry she was. “And cookies, lots of coo--” She stopped abruptly as her eyes fell on something that chilled her far deeper than any icy temperature ever could.
Liam had stepped out of the woods and was heading toward them, but he wasn’t alone. Walking alongside him was a tall, elegant woman, who wore a tight, green, leather jacket and matching pants, her hair pulled back in a taut braid.
As Rebecca’s eyes met the woman’s, she felt the scowl fall upon her face and her anger seep back inside her chest, hollowing out her heart.
The boys, too, had fallen silent as they watched the pair approach, their earlier cold and hunger quickly forgotten. Sensing the rising tension of the situation, they were unsure of how to react, or what to do.
“Rebecca,” the woman said as she stopped a few paces away from the group. She forced a soft smile to part her lips as she looked at her daughter.
“You’re not wanted here.” Rebecca heard her voice falter as she spoke, but she stood resolutely, keeping her emotions in check and her eyes narrowed with rage.
Aileen’s smile fell instantly as she stepped forward, “Rebecca, we need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” Without another word, Rebecca spun on the spot and marched into the house. She kept her pace quick, but she did not run. Though her hands trembled at her sides, she held her head high. She would not let her mother see the suffering and anguish she’d put Rebecca through. As she closed the door to the house, her knees faltered. She needed to get to her room. She needed to be alone. She was better off alone.
Chapter Seven
“Is that all you’ve eaten today?” Rebecca turned to see Faolan entering her room. Faolam was referring to the granola bar wrapper that Rebecca had discarded near her spot by the large window.
Rebecca started to mumble that she wasn’t hungry but, before she could speak, her stomach cried out in agony.
“That’s what I thought,” Faolan took a seat beside Rebecca and handed her a large sandwich wrapped in a paper towel.
“Thank you,” Rebecca grabbed the sandwich and immediately took a huge bite.
“You know, you’re going to have to talk to your mother at some point.”
Faolan had waited until Rebecca had her mouth full to begin speaking. Rebecca furrowed her brow in protest and tried to chew and swallow, but there was no sauce on the bread causing it to stick horribly in her throat. Had Faolan been so diabolical as to do this on purpose?
“Your mother is here to protect us,” Faolan continued, not allowing Rebecca time to answer. “We need her, Rebecca. You need her, whether you’re willing to admit that or not. If she can find us, then that means others eventually will too. We need all the help we can get right now.”
Rebecca dropped the sandwich onto the floor once she was finally able to swallow. Rage building in her chest, she turned a heated glare on Faolan. “Where was she when we were attacked by the Elites? Where was she when I was forced to use my ability to kill all those soldiers? She promised she was going to protect me, but she’s done nothing for me.
Nothing! I’ve made it through 17 years of my life without her; I can make it 17 more!”
“You’re not thinking rationally. Don’t let your anger cloud your judge--”
“You know nothing about my anger,” Rebecca nearly shouted, causing Faolan to instinctively shift away from her. “Not one of you knows anything about what I’m going through!”
“Rebecca, your mother can help--”
“Just shut up and leave!” Rebecca screamed within her head. Her rage had grown so intense that it had taken over her entire body.
Faolan, who had still been talking, suddenly fell silent, her mouth slamming shut. Her eyes went wide with surprise and, in one fluid motion, she stood, pivoted, and walked right out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Rebecca sat in silence for a moment, as shocked as Faolan had been. She had done that! Rebecca’s thoughts had commanded Faolan to stop talking and leave, and she had obeyed.
The small hairs on the back of Rebecca’s neck stood on end, sending a shiver down her spine. In search of comfort, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on top of them. What was wrong with her? First Maverick’s memory, and now this. She was losing control over herself, over her ability.
* * *
After an hour, her stomach got the better of her and she ate the rest of the sandwich. It was disgustingly dry and seriously lacking in taste, but she was starving.
When she finished, she balled up the paper towel, grabbed the granola wrapper, and stood up and deposited them into the wastebasket. Once she was upright, however, she saw the handle turn and her door swing inward. Her mother was standing on the other side, her face stern as she glared at her daughter.
“We’re going to speak, whether you want to or not.” Rebecca was prepared to make a snide comment but stopped as her mother raised her hand, cutting her off. “You may not like it, but I am your mother and you will treat me with respect.”