by Debra Kristi
It’s Ry. My skin flushes, blood boils, rage flaring at him for abandoning me. I can’t spit out a single word, anger holds my tongue. So I glare. Glare so hard I’d knock him on his ass if my eyes could punch. I shake with the desire to do just that, to fly across the room and hit him.
He looks like he’s been fighting already. He’s dressed as if he came straight from a militia drill, complete with smudges, scrapes, and slashes. Camouflage military pants, black boots, and a green tank top were his chosen attire for Crystia’s service. I grind my teeth to keep from screaming. Of course, he probably never intended to attend. Sweat glistens across his exposed skin. His upper arms, now bare, display intricate tattoos, swirling and zig-zagging across his skin. Knives and swords are strapped to his back and waist. Spiked bands wrap around his wrists and forearms. Various weapons are strategically placed and hidden on his body. He’s decked out for war. Judging from his wounds, it looks like he already found a battle or two.
He stares at me, studies me, and I pour all my steaming fury into my gaze right back, lasering a hole between his eyes. “Way to kill the door, moron. A normal person would have simply opened it. Now why don’t you go back to wherever you came from? You’re not welcome here.”
“It was stuck.” His voice tweaks defensively. “Didn’t you hear the house shifting?”
Likely story. I turn my back on him. Jaden’s words replay in my mind, causing my throat and chest to tighten. Damn irritating guilt streak. Deep down, I know Jaden’s right. No doubt, Ry has a good reason for his absence. Doesn’t change the fact I want to be mad at him right now.
“Ana—”
I whip back around. “Look, I’m sorry. Your timing happens to suck. I needed you, and you weren’t here.” Saying the words, even though I almost choke on them, lifts a colossal weight off my soul.
Something changes in Ry’s eyes, and he lets me see his pain. He shifts uncomfortably in the doorway. “Ana, I can’t express how deeply pained I am. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me. Sorry you had to experience something so horrific. I should have stayed, or taken you with me. There are so many things I wish I could change. Nothing has gone as planned.” He drops his head, shakes. “Plans were being made to move us, but it was too late. I was too late.” He falls silent, stares at a spot on the floor, looking as if he is forever and a galaxy away. Then he’s back, snapping to in a breath. His entire body is rigid, and his eyes spark with urgency. “We need to move. I gotta grab something from your mom’s room. Come on.” He shifts, looks at me expectantly. I don’t move.
Loud booms and banging, similar to the ones that preceded Ry, sound in the hall. Originating from the other side of the house, I fear for Mom. Fear for what scenario is playing out within our walls. My gut squirms. Something big is going on around us. I know that. This time, though, I’m not frightened of any of it. I turn away from Ry to face the computer.
“Ana, listen to what’s going on around us. We don’t have time for this.”
Jolting across the room, I bump into the corner of the bed. “We’re never coming back here, right?”
“Goddammit, Ana!” He turns and sulks down the hall. “I’ll be right back. Be ready.”
My hand clamps down on the shard, Jaden’s bit of magical glass. The one I saw the face in. I clutch it to my chest, feeling the abrupt change along the busted edge. I should go look for Ry, but I’m in no hurry to leave the essence Crystia’s room provides. Instead, I lie on the bed to wait for his return. When I close my eyes, I can remember a better time. A time when it was still the three of us.
The walls and floor groan. The whole house shudders. Bits of plaster fall from the ceiling, get stuck in my hair.
“Cut it out, Ry!”
“I didn’t do that.” I turn my head to see Ry in the hall by the doorway. Rushing forward, he thrusts his arm out to grab my wrist. “We need to go, like now!” Wrapping his hand around mine, he lifts me from the bed. “What is this?” He plucks the shard from my hand, and I shrug. His gaze narrows. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s Jaden’s,” I say and twist my lips.
A disproving look washes over him, and he shoves the shard in his pocket. The house groans. He glances from the walls to the ceiling. “Let’s get you to Hiddenkel.” We run for the door.
I stop in the busted doorframe and gaze back at all of Crystia’s stuff, an ache burning in my heart. “What about Oscar? The house is under attack.” I clutch the doorframe, prepared to say goodbye to my home.
Ry stands in the hallway, waiting. “My point exactly. Forget the cat.”
A loud exploding pop, this one from Crystia’s bedroom. The dresser mirror cracks into a multitude of fine lines. In the center is a distinct word: GO. Shock, pain, and excitement braid together and race through me. Electric surges pulse and spark from my fingertips, run along the doorframe, then zip along the wood molding. I release the frame. Scream for the cat.
Ry stands right behind me. “When did that start?”
“Which part?” We dash down the hall, turning the corner at Mom’s room, and head for the kitchen. “The light show or the ghostly interference?”
Ry pauses, shoves me through the door to my room. “Not that way.”
“What about Mom?”
He throws open my window, and we climb out onto the lawn. Oscar leaps through a second later. I want to swoop him up and coddle him, but I need to get to Mom.
“Ry, what about Mom?” I repeat.
Ry gets a funny look on his face, so I look back at the house. My muscles lock, and my body freezes. Mom must still be inside somewhere.
Long, broad cracks run all across the face of the house. It looks like a child-drawn terrain map. Windows shatter, lights flicker, and the roof tiles ripple. Everything about the structure creaks and moans. Voices encroach on my mind, and I recognize them for what they are this time. They’ve finally come to my house. Their unnaturally shifty, shadowy shapes slither from window to window, searching for me. Except I’m not there. Not anymore.
These things have been hunting me all along. Ever since the school swimming pool and the puddles in the parking lot. They know who I am and what I’m supposed to become. The question is, how did they find me?
The entire house is falling into darkness. I can’t even imagine how many shadows must be inside.
Yanking on my arm, Ry swings me around to face him. “We must go!”
I pull back, attempt to free myself. I can’t leave Mom. Not in this monstrous situation. “Mom!” I shout, my words swallowed by the sounds of our house breaking.
Ry’s face lights up. Is it pride I see? I glance back at the house, and a strange, unnatural light is ablaze in one of the windows. Shadows cringe from it, scurrying out of sight.
“Come on!” Ry tries to guide me across the dirt drive.
“Not without Mom. Those things are in there, and I need to get her.”
“Not now. It’s not safe. You are the priority. She can take care of herself. She’s a warrior, remember?”
“Are you crazy? I can’t leave. She may not mean that much to you, but she’s all I have left.”
“You’re wrong. And I’m not letting you go back in there.”
I shove him. Shove him with everything I have in me. “You can’t stop me.”
Blue sparks ignite from my palms, and Ry is thrown from my touch. Like something out of a movie, he flies backward to the ground, landing with a thud. Without waiting to make sure he’s all right, I rush toward the house. Ry’s arms wrap around my middle and pull me back, swinging me in the opposite direction. A scream of exasperation belts from my lungs, and I throw my head back, connecting with his. I hear and feel the crack. His hold loosens, but not enough.
And then I’m free! I take a running step, then pain siezes control.
Everything goes black.
The bed shakes, bounces me like a rag doll. Are we having an earthquake? A moan whispers from between my lips, and I twist, trying to find comfort. I don�
�t want to wake up. Too haggard. Too…ouch! What’s that on the back of my head? My hand rubs at the bump, attempting to illicit a memory. Another rattle. The surface beneath me is firm, not soft and comfy as my bed should be. I want to look, but I don’t want to look, because the prospect feels like ugly work to me. I search blindly for my pillow to no avail. Nothing is right.
My head throbs, and the need for an aspirin outweighs my desire to forever sleep. I open my eyes and sit up slowly, grabbing the door panel for support. I’m bouncing around the back of Ry’s Plymouth. The car lumbers down an old, cracked asphalt road at top speed. Our fast pace and the dark of early night turns everything into a big blur. Ry glances in the rearview mirror, a gleam in his eye.
“You’re magnificent. With the blow I delivered, most would be out for at least forty minutes. Not you, though. You’re only out for a couple.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “Hold on to something.”
The car makes a sharp right turn. No time, I’m caught off-guard. My hand scrapes across the door but catches nothing. I slide across the backseat and slam into the far side panel.
“More warning next time,” I say with a moan.
Ry’s face is aglow. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I look to my feet, around the backseat. “Where’s Oscar?”
“Don’t worry about the cat. He’ll be fine.”
“But…but he’s Oscar.” He’s family. My face is falling, and I want to slam the back of Ry’s seat—hard.
“Without you there, your mom will need him around for comfort. Until she can meet up with us, that is.” He adjusts the rearview mirror and glances at me.
Sometimes I hate Ry. I allow myself a tiny pout, stare out the window, recognize our location, and ponder our destination. “You’re not taking me to the Feline Preservation Center, are you?” I don’t even give him a chance to answer. My hands slam down on the back of his seat. “Why did we leave my mom behind? The house was being destroyed by those things!”
“Do you honestly believe your mom can’t handle herself against them? They were looking for you, Ana. Not her. Once they realized you weren’t there, I’m sure they left your mom alone. Satisfied?” He raises a brow at me in the rearview mirror.
“Not even slightly.”
He laughs. “Your mom’s a warrior, Ana. You don’t fully understanding what that means, do you?” He glances back through the mirror.
I blink, awaiting his follow-up.
He returns his gaze out the front window and mumbles, “It’s because of the way she chose to raise you.” He raises his voice. “Your mom won’t die today. You can be confident of that fact, and she will find a way to meet up with us. Soon.” The car whirls past the Preservation Center turnoff. “No cat house. We’re going to Hiddenkel. That is where you want to go, isn’t it?”
I stare back at him through the mirror, clutching the front seat to steady myself. My grip is steadily turning white. “How do you know this about Mom?”
“It takes instruments forged in the Fires of Gaurdoone to kill one of us. Only the eternal flame can end the life of an immortal.” He delivers the last sentence with a slight touch of flare.
The car cranks to the left. I gasp. Lose my hold on the seat. My head is reeling with the new information. Now my body is, too, sliding across the seat and slamming into the far panel. The window crank jabs into my side.
“Immortal,” I whisper with a wince. “How old is my mom?”
“Ana, gentlemen don’t speak of a lady’s age.”
I shoot him an evil glare through the rearview mirror with the force of a pellet gun.
He laughs. “Four hundred and seventy-two. Give or take a few years.”
“Oh my Gaea and God.” My jaw drops. “And you?”
“One hundred and ninety next month,” he states matter-of-factly.
“How do you pass for a high school student?” My words stammer, and blood pumps faster than I imagine the pistons firing in the block of Ry’s engine.
“I look damn good for my age…and I’m sexy.” He shakes his head and winks.
“Holy creative Gaea! You’re not just an asshat. You’re an immortal asshat!” I slug him in the arm.
He drops the tease. “I may be an asshat, but I’m your asshat.” His lips purse. “How I age physically depends on a lot of factors. I take care of myself, so the process is slow, as it should be. Maintaining the younger appearance helped me keep a closer eye on you at school.”
I inhale deeply. “I have immortal blood?” Ry nods. “How old am I?”
“Don’t be silly, Ana. You’re eighteen.”
“Oh, right. No extra unknown years for me. But I’m not human, I’m part immortal.”
“No, you’re not human. You’re something completely unique. I can’t wait to see what you become.”
“Yeah...the whole Balance Bringer thing. What if I don’t want—”
The car jumps off the road, ending my words abruptly. Light from a street lamp momentarily brightens the interior, illuminating painted marks on most every surface. The car slips on the dirt, and we speed toward a chain-link fence, showing no intentions of slowing. My heart seeks escape from my chest, and I search for a good hold. Any hold. On the door, the ceiling. Except this car was made before they made the Oh shit! bar a standard item. Seatbelts are all I have. I twist them around my wrists and hold tight.
“By Gradnar’s honor!” Ry yells like a battle cry.
Excited howls blast from the front seat, and we plow through the fencing. The gate breaks. Sounds of popping metal followed by whiny scratches, as the car slides through the raw edges of chain-link metal clawing at the paint. I cringe. Want to cover my ears. The metal frame of the gate crashes, bouncing off the trunk and falling to the ground behind us.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.
“Getting us to Hiddenkel.”
“By way of property destruction and ghost towns?”
“Sounds about right.”
The Plymouth rallies, swerves up the dirt path toward a cluster of old buildings. The location was once an old mining community. Now it’s a protected historical site—or it was. It’s nothing more than an old cluster of dilapidated buildings, kept protected from the public by a flimsy gate Ry just destroyed.
I stare at the back of Ry’s head, then past him to the dark buildings ahead. Finally I peer at the panels and seat around me. “Why is all this crap painted inside your car?” Red paint has been slopped in strange markings all the way around, on the doors, the back of the seat, the floor, everywhere.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. They’re runes.”
“Runes? You painted magical spells inside the car? Why would you do that? Is this because of those moving shadows?”
Thunk. The tires hit a bump, torqueing the car and knocking me sideways. I try to push myself back up, but the car tails into a swerve. Falling back against the seat, I stare ahead at Ry. He’s brimming with confidence and focus, shifting through turns swiftly, correcting our trajectory.
At the top of the climb I fly—briefly—then come crashing back into the cushion feeling ten times heavier. Instinctively, my arms tighten their hold on the belts and become my anchors. They steady me, prepare me for whatever comes next. My focus turns toward the window and to the weatherworn, wooden buildings beyond. A dirty, decaying western wood look is sprinkled between boxy, sheet metal businesses.
Ry grunts and stares straight ahead, weaving the car along the dry dirt path. We whip right, then left, curving along paths dictated by falling buildings. They rise tight at our sides like sentinels. Without warning, Ry cranks the car into a sharp right, and I slam into the door panel.
The car hurtles through a camouflaged opening in the rock and emerges in an open arena within the mountain’s core. Natural walls encircle us. The Plymouth pitches and spins in a ducktail, spraying dirt and rock against the stone side. The car finally coughs to a full stop in a cloud of dust and engine spur.
I l
ean forward, trying to see out the front window, but the air is too dense with grit. “Why here? I didn’t even know this space existed.”
“This is where we’ll find what we’re looking for.” He jumps out of the car and leans back through the window. “If I ask you to stay in the car and wait for me, will you?”
A roar equal to Godzilla’s growl breaks through the night. My eyes widen, yet Ry’s gaze remains intense, waiting for my answer.
“I think so,” I say and gulp, then search the shadows of the surrounding area.
“That will have to do.” He steps away from the car.
“Wait.” I grab for him. “How can there be a way to the other world here?”
“It’s extremely well-hidden and secured like you wouldn’t believe.” He disappears before I have a chance to utter another word. As the dust settles, I attempt to determine where he went. The silence is unsettling, the dark disturbing, and I start to question why I’m waiting for Ry. I should have gone with him. But…I sit up straighter, realizing he just gave me the opportunity to go help Mom.
I climb into the front seat, clutch the door handle, and collect my courage. I have no reason to fear the night here. Everything is clear. Everything inside the small circle in which we’ve parked, that is. There’s no reason to believe it should be any different beyond. All the scary things—the shadows—we left behind with Mom.
The rhythm of my heart and breath govern me. Acutely aware of every minute creek, tweet, and shuffle, I push open the door and step away from the car. Ry’s Plymouth sits in the center of a manmade rock auditorium. Everywhere I look—rock, rock, and more rock.
In a moment of hesitation, I stare back at the car. The same kinds of rune symbols decorating the interior are painted in red on the outside. They drip off the doors, fenders, hood, and trunk. Even the top of the car didn’t escape the graffiti.
I shiver, then think of Mom. She needs me, and I must get to her. The narrow tunnel we came through is to my left. I make a beeline, sliding on the loose soil. My little slip-ons are all wrong for running. Especially in the dirt. In a perfect world, I would have grabbed my tennis shoes on the way out the door. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be standing here at all.