Becoming: The Balance Bringer (The Balance Bringer Chronicles Book 1)

by Debra Kristi

  My mouth hangs open. “Are you saying I might be able to control the water?”

  “There’s no might about it. That’s what a Balance Bringer is. What you and your sisters are.”

  My lips torque at the mention of my sisters. “About that, the Triune, the whole three-in-one thing. I don’t understand. How is that working for me? Why did they have to die?” Anger creeps into my tone.

  Ry’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Think of yourself as a battery.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Stay with me on this. You’re putting out your voltage and getting the job done. For each of your sisters, it’s the same thing. Now you need to power something bigger. None of you can handle the load on your own, but when you combine your power, the job is doable. That’s kind of what’s happening here, only you’re supercharged.” I open my mouth to speak, and he raises his finger. “Yes, that means your sisters and their energy will be combined with your own. All three will work through you.”

  My heart drops. “Are you saying their spirits are trapped within me?” My voice hitches.

  He shrugs. “I only know what I’ve heard, not how it works. Wish I could be more help.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. Crystia showed me. She’ll be there, she’s waiting for me. She’ll be there.”

  Ry shoots me a pained look, so I turn away and stare out the window for something, anything, to take my mind off the things said. I point to a cozy coffee stop on the side of the road. “Caffeine.”

  “It’s too early for them to be open.”

  I sink back in my seat, deflated, exhausted. A little boost would have been nice. My eyes wander over Ry’s tense jawline to his focused, hard-steel stare, moving down his arms. His hold on the steering wheel is intense. Leaning forward, I notice the ink curling and dripping from his shoulder. “Is this one new?” I tap on his arm. “I’ve never seen one so exposed before.”

  His eyes flicker to my touch, then to me, before returning to the road again. “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand. You thought in the middle of all this upheaval you’d stop and get a new tattoo?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. They’re earned. I don’t go get them. They just happen.”

  I pull back in my seat and stare at him. “They what?”

  “Each one represents a battle fought. It’s a warrior thing. We all get them.”

  I feel a chill and wish for my blanket. “Who puts them there?”

  “I don’t know. An almighty deity. The human’s God, maybe. It’s possible they are wired into our DNA.”

  “So, according to that marking, you’ve fought in a battle since you left me the night of the party?”

  “More than once. I probably have a small mark somewhere for what we did back at the mine.”

  I blink twice. “My brother the warrior. That’s kinda cool.” Laying my head against the seat, I wonder if Mom’s hiding marks too, and if I’ll ever get any of my own.

  The car picks up speed, and we’re moving like we have a purpose. Ry looks different, like a man with a mission.

  I scrutinize the road ahead. “You appear to know where we’re headed now.”

  “I do,” he replies smugly.

  I vaguely remember pulling into the gas station and Ry’s quick words before he jogged in the direction of the mini mart. Exhaustion ruled my body, and I only caught every other word before crawling into the backseat with my blanket. Something about rest and feet and heal. The rhythmic beat of the pumping fuel lulls me into a quick slumber.

  He’s waiting for me, my sexy savior. Every cell in my body yearns for him. His golden hair is the light guiding me in the darkness surrounding us.

  “Remember you belong to me, Ana.” His voice is like silk. I want to lap it up.

  The night swirls around our bodies, caressing us. The voices, they nag. I ignore them. It’s him I want.

  My body tumbles into the back of the seat, throwing me from the dream, ripping me away from him. No! The entire chamber booms with obnoxious noise, and the car lurches, bounces, and swerves, moving at a fast pace. I hesitate to open my eyes, hoping I might still return to the dream. Feeling things aren’t right, though, I force them open. Dohlan’s name slips off my lips, but no one hears. How could anyone, with the noise cranked up to deafening levels in the small space? My warm and fuzzy blanket obscures my view. I don’t need to see to know something is wrong.

  A loud screech startles me, and the car is thrown to a momentary grinding halt. A sharp turn tosses me to the floor in a heap, but not before I slam into the back of the driver’s seat.

  “What the hell, Ry?” I pull myself onto the seat and realize the driver before me is not Ry. “What have you done with Ry?”

  “Stowaway, aye. Bonus for the Task Master.” His voice is thick and tired, and he steals a glance in my direction. “Mmm, and a tasty lil blond one, too. Double bonus. We’ll have us a good time, right after I get me a hot price for these wheels.”

  Grabbing a lock of the man’s dirty black hair, I yank back as hard as I can. The car swerves slightly out of control. Reaching over, I grip him in a stranglehold. The sharp slice of a knife into my arm is unexpected. I fall far against the backseat to rethink my strategy.

  “That’s right, witch. I got me a fine lil pretty. Although it ain’t that lil now, ain’t it?” He waves the knife, showing off an Uzi defender fixed blade, now dripping with my blood. “You’d better watch yourself or you ain’t be lookin’ so pretty no more.”

  I cross my arms and stare out the window, contemplating my next move. He might have a weapons advantage, but I’ve got training and know-how on my side. Besides, I’m not completely weaponless. I have my blanket and pillow. And something else—I gently push my foot down on the old-school floor cigarette lighter, hoping he doesn’t suspect a thing, and go over a plan in my head. I’ve got to overpower this guy and take control of the car. Unease shudders through me. I’m doing something wrong. Somehow I need to get back to Ry. The pain lifts, and I instantly feel lighter, letting me know that’s my true and only objective—get back to Ry.

  Getting out of the car won’t be easy. There’s the motion, the fact this guy never stops, not even for red lights, and the fact that he could crash the car on purpose at my attempted escape. I’ll have to act carefully. While the Task Master sings to the heavy music on the radio at the top of his lungs, banging and jerking his body in a basic beat, I knead the pillow into my lap and slide the blanket to the floor. I swirl the blanket around my feet, attempting to create as much padding along the bottom as possible.

  Craning my neck, I see the knife wedged between his thighs. He’s too cocky and doesn’t have a hand on it. I can’t reach the damn thing without him grabbing me first. Doesn’t matter, the knife isn’t my plan. I only want to know how much time I have before it comes into play. Sucking in a deep breath, I grab a wad of his hair again. This time, I yank his head with all my might into the side window. It cracks with the hit.

  “Bloody hell!”

  Indeed, blood runs down the side of his face. Releasing his greasy mop, I spin in my seat, throwing both feet at the back window. With the sound of a seal breaking, the whole window comes loose. It hangs, still partially attached. Kicking my feet free of the blanket, I throw my arm up with the wrapped pillow to defend against the knife slashing my way.

  The Task Master lets the car swerve uncontrollably while he attempts to jab holes in me. Three, maybe four times I feel fire kiss my skin where the blade passes through the pillow. I try to melt into the floor in defense, before shoving with the pillow. Slamming hard, shoving him into the steering wheel. The car jumps the curb, distracting him long enough to correct our course. That second is all I need. I seize the cigarette lighter, now red-hot.

  When he spins back, I catch his wrist in my left hand and come down on top of the knife-wielding hand with the lighter. In a mix of curses and screams, he drops the knife. It falls to the floor at my feet. Curling my hand tighter in
his, I wrench him to me, then thrust my head full-force into his, throwing him backward. I don’t wait to see what happens next. I scoop up the knife, grab the blanket, wrapping as much of it around me as possible, and thrust all my weight at the rear window. It gives, and I roll along the trunk into the night air.

  The ground comes fast and ungiving. I take the hit and continue rolling. The blanket adds a layer of protection against the cuts and scrapes. I tumble to a stop. Quickly pulling myself free from the wrapping, I see I’m in no danger of being flattened by oncoming traffic. Ry’s car continues to drive away in a perilous manner. I half-expected the Task Master to swing around and come after me.

  I check myself. No howling pain. No broken bones. No serious injury. It’s pretty amazing, but I don’t have time to dwell on what just happened or how I fared. Shaking the blanket and broken glass off, I stay low to the ground and search for the knife. Last thing I want is to become a large target in the Task Master’s rearview mirror. The street is eerily empty, and yet I can’t see the knife anywhere, like it simply disappeared. The taillights of Ry’s car vanish around a corner, only to be followed by a loud crash. I cringe and try not to think about the car I’ve grown so fond of.

  Footsteps come from a tight, dark alley cut between two buildings at my side. I freeze and refocus completely. Shapes reflect in the shadows. Someone slowly approaches, cutting their way through the dark like a chameleon in a jungle. It could be anyone, maybe a security guard or a homeless person.

  It’s neither. My breath escapes, and everything constricts as if something’s squeezing all the air out of my chest. I try to call his name, only to have my voice come out in a wheeze.

  Shades of black—black pants, black boots, black trench coat, and a black silk shirt, which hardly reflect the light with his movements. But the golden fibers of his hair glisten when the light reaches down. They give him away. I must go to him, if only my muscles would move. In my world—he’s in my world. Not a dream.

  Dohlan’s eyes narrow, fill with sadness and longing—mesmerizing. Closing them, he sniffs at the knife clutched in his hand, the one crusted with my blood, the one I’ve been searching for. He teases me, holding the blade close to his heart. “Your blood. It will always draw me to you,” he says, “And with this,” he wipes his finger through my blood on the blade, “we will change everything.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” I mumble. “Change what?”

  He glances behind me, spares me a smile, and recedes into the darkness.

  He’s gone. Why has he gone? I’m clouded in sorrow, confusion. He could’ve at least left the knife. Then overwhelming warmth touches my shoulder, and my head starts to clear, reason returning. What am I doing? Damn Dohlan and his effect on me. Not to mention that gross blood-tracking thing he does. What does he want with my blood, anyway? Eww.

  I lurch forward, attempt to run him down. My blanket snags, yanks me back, and sharp pain pricks through my feet. “Dohlan, you bastard!” I scream, slap my palms to the ground.

  I shake my head clear and look up to see Jaden kneeling beside me. My body jerks back. He tries to touch my shoulder, but I flinch away.

  A look of concern weathers his features. “Can you walk?”

  I glance around, then slap my hand.

  “What did you do that for?” His eyes narrow.

  I can barely believe my eyes. First Dohlan, now Jaden. This is too weird. “You’re here. How are you here?”

  “I always know when and where you need me.” He puts his hand out for my support. “Sorry I wasn’t better prepared. I only knew you’d be on this street sometime tonight. I was waiting down that way.” He motions behind him. “I was too far away when you came flying out of the back window.” He locks his gaze on me. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so. I need to find Ry. He must be going out of his mind by now.” Using the heel of my palm I massage my temple. “What are you?”

  “Tonight, I’m your knight in shining armor.”

  I hold the distance between us, afraid to get too close right now. “Not going to answer that? I have another one, then. How did you know to be here?”

  His gaze shifts to the alley as if he is looking for something…or someone…and he moves forward, sweeping me up in his arms. “Come. Let’s get you out of the street. I’ll answer your questions as we walk.”

  “What are you doing?” I push at his chest. I admit it isn’t much of a fight. I’m conflicted about what I want. I don’t like all the men in my life treating me like a girlie-girl.

  “I thought it was obvious.”

  I puff with pride. “Why are you being an ass? I can walk.”

  “Because I am an ass, as you put it. I’m sure you can walk quite proper,” he says. “Personally, I think you should let those feet of yours heal a little longer.” He motions to the battered and torn bandages adorning my feet.

  “You sound funny when you cuss. It doesn’t fit you.” I continue to fidget.

  “Hmm. I imagine it is because I only just picked it up from you. Here. Now.”

  “You can do that?” I shake my head to refocus. “So you haven’t been in this world, or whatever, very long? I mean, you only recently arrived from Hiddenkel?” My chest lightens. I just got the answer I’ve been searching for. He really is the green-eyed guy from my dreams.

  “Yes.”

  My heart is wild with activity, and I let him carry me in silence the rest of the way. Dreams from so long ago of my green-eyed boy bounce through my head. The cliffside village. Seeing him recently, then seeing Dohlan. I’m a bit giddy thinking this is the same guy, in the flesh. He looks down at me, something in his eyes understanding. He carries me a full block before coming to a motorcycle parked in the shadows. Striding directly to the bike, he places me on the seat and removes a small cell phone from his pocket. He places the phone in my palm, cupping my hand in his own.

  “Don’t be afraid of me.” His hand soothes the top of mine. “Remember how I told you I was here for you?” I nod. “This is all part of who I am and what I do. I’ll always be wherever you need me.”

  He releases my hand, and I stare at the empty space where his fingers were moments ago. I don’t know what to say. Don’t know what to feel. That can’t be true. It can’t be.

  “Anyway, I thought you might want to call Ryland.”

  I look from him to the phone in my hand. “Thanks.”

  I shiver, and he wraps the blanket firmly around me, then picks up a backpack from the ground. From it he produces a slim black jacket. “This may help fight off the cold.”

  “Thank you. You always carry girls’ jackets around with you?” I slip the jacket on; it’s a perfect fit.

  “I thought you might need one.”

  “Pretty good intuition, for a guy.”

  “It’s a gift,” he says softly.

  “Nice gift.” I look away, avoid his gaze. How did he know I’d be in need? Then I think of the last jacket he handed me. “Sorry, I left your jacket at home.”

  “No matter,” he says.

  I focus on the phone, tap in Ry’s number. Jaden gives me space, stepping across the alley and leaning against the far wall.

  Ry answers after one ring. He sounds agitated.

  “Ry, I’m sorry. I lost the car.”

  “Ana! I don’t care about the car. Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m fine. Jaden’s with me.” I glance over at him. He scuffs the ground and pushes his hand through his hair.

  “Jaden found you?” He’s silent for a moment, and I don’t know what to make of it. “That’s good. I’m glad he found you.”

  “I am too. I knew it, Ry. I felt it about him, and I told you so.” My heart beats wildly, and my gut squeezes.

  “So you did.”

  “Tell me where you are, so Jaden can get me there.” With arrangements made and goodbyes said, I hang up and hand the phone back to Jaden.

  He slides the phone into his pocket. “No worries. I’ll see you all the
way to your destination.”

  I eye him curiously, wondering if he truly means all the way.

  He grabs the backpack again. “Let’s get you better prepared for the ride.”

  I try to peek over his hand into the bag. “What do you have in your bag of tricks?”

  He smiles. “Just a few necessary items. Let me see those feet of yours.”

  Lifting one foot, he examines the dressing Ry wrapped earlier. It looks completely tattered.

  “They don’t feel too bad. Personally, I think Ry overreacted.”

  He glances at me. “I find that hard to believe. Does this hurt?” He presses on the center of my pad with his finger.

  I try, unsuccessfully, to hide a wince. “Okay, so they’re still a little sore.”

  “I’m not crazy about you riding on the bike barefoot. Can you stand to wear shoes?”

  “I think I can bear it. Better that than losing a toe.”

  “Agreed.” He produces what I need for the ride—socks, which he carefully pulls over my bandaged feet, and a pair of black-buckled, lace-up boots with slip-resistant soles.

  “These are really nice.” I study his backpack, trying to figure out how everything fit into the tight space.

  “Glad you like them.” Jaden leans forward and zips up my jacket. To have him so close. His breath. The heat. The pull. It’s different now. I’m no longer irritated. No longer fighting.

  But he’s all serious in the moment, and he should be. He pulls a hairband from his pocket to keep my hair out of my face and stands ready with a helmet in his hands. I catch him watching me pull my hair back. There’s something about the way his gaze travels across my hands and hair that makes me nervous, giddy. I adjust the helmet.

  He passes me a pair of fur-lined gloves. “You ready to go? Ryland’s going to think I kidnapped you.”

  He’s right on that fact. Ry would be a force of nature, and Jaden would need to watch out. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  He looks past me to something down the street. “Then we ride.”