Echoes of Memory
Page 9
“Yeah.”
“What did he tell you?”
If he had hesitated, I would have thought he was lying. But he shrugged and turned and started walking with me, immediately starting in with, “That Kaira’s really sick, and he’s worried about her. And you.”
“Why me?”
Another shrug. Maybe he was hiding something. Maybe he just shrugged a lot. I don’t think we’d ever really hung out, the two of us. And this wasn’t a normal circumstance.
“He said you’re taking it really hard,” Oliver said. “That you’re . . .”
“What? I’m what?”
“Imagining things,” he said.
The words were small punches to the gut.
“Did he say what?”
“No. Just that you felt responsible for Kaira.” He looked over at me. “He’s sorry, by the way.”
“For what?”
“Treating you like the enemy.”
“Then why isn’t he saying it?”
“Because it’s Ethan. He’s proud as fuck. He loves her, you know. And it scares him to see her hurt. Hell, he’s even been lashing out at me.”
That came as a surprise. They were always lovey in person. His swearing was a surprise as well—Oliver was always straightlaced, as my mom would admiringly say. Dressed well, was always polite. Maybe that was just his public persona. Maybe, like the rest of us, he was living more than one life.
“Sorry to hear that,” I muttered. “And I’m not imagining things.” And I have a pack of burnt cigarettes to prove it.
“I know you aren’t imagining things. He gets like this when he’s overworked.”
The woods around us were heavy and darkening, but for some reason, with him there, I was able to momentarily forget all the strange shit that had been happening. He was like this six-foot-tall pillar of stability. It was like, whatever the storm was, he’d weather it. And by being in his presence, you’d weather it too.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed that feeling.
I let my hands unclench in my pockets.
“I heard she’s better,” he said.
“Not really,” I replied. She’s probably worse.
We walked in silence for a while. The lights of campus split through the tree branches, leaving long lines on the snow.
“It’s not you,” Oliver said eventually. “He’s really freaking out. He cares too much.”
“What a curse.”
He stopped walking and looked at me. “Actually, it can be. It sounds cliché, I know, but it’s actually pretty debilitating at times. Severe anxiety, panic attacks. I’ve tried to convince him to take something, but he’s too stubborn to even do St. John’s Wort. But when he starts worrying about someone, it’s like this. This downward spiral where he feels responsible for everything, and suddenly everyone else becomes an enemy, because he’s drowning and they’re dry.”
I didn’t tell him that his boyfriend thought I was insane, that he thought I had a hand in Jonathan’s death.
Oliver wasn’t the enemy.
Wait, what was I talking about? No one was the enemy. No one, save for the falcon and that bastard god.
“Everyone has their issues,” I said, my words more clipped than I’d intended. Mine involve staving off possession.
“This isn’t the time to push people away.”
“I appreciate you trying to convince me not to be angry at your boyfriend. Really. But I’m not the one pointing fingers here.”
He didn’t refute me.
“What did you see the other night?” he asked instead.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not an idiot. Ethan’s been acting strange ever since you guys went up on the roof. He’s not telling me something. I know him; if I push for answers, he’ll clam up.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
I couldn’t tell him the truth; I wasn’t naive enough to think he’d believe me when Ethan would not, especially when Ethan had been there to see at least part of the strange things that had happened. Not even with a magic trick up my sleeve; I didn’t think cutting myself would yield very good results in front of him. But I also knew that expression. He wasn’t going to let this drop. Not until he thought I’d told him something Ethan hadn’t. Not until he thought he was in the loop. He didn’t realize this wasn’t a loop he wanted in on. It was safer to be in the dark. And far, far away.
“Cassie was right,” I admitted. “It was ritualistic. The deaths. Jonathan was involved somehow, and last night . . . when I came back last night, I caught the tail end of what they were doing. Kaira was there, yelling at them to stop. She ran out when I got there, wouldn’t answer her phone calls. And then she woke up sick the morning after. Ethan’s worried about her. So am I. Because whatever was going on in there was dark.”
“You think she was caught up in it?”
I shook my head. The lie was difficult to spin. Too much or too little information, and he’d stop believing me. We were nearing the lake, where fishermen’s huts glowed in tiny spots of quiet warmth, their lights streaking across the snow. Like rays. Or feathers. I looked over at Oliver, forced down the hum in the back of my head. Not now, not now.
“She wasn’t involved. Not like the others,” I managed. “I think she found out about it and was trying to stop it.”
“But what is it?”
“I don’t know.”
He gave me a look.
“Honestly, I don’t.”
It was then I realized he hadn’t stopped studying me.
“You don’t think it’s over.” It wasn’t a question: His words were almost a promise.
Now it was my turn to study.
“What do you mean?”
“I know that tone. You’re afraid. If it was over, you wouldn’t be worried. But you think it’s going to happen again. Another murder.”
I also think Kaira’s possessed, and I’m about to be, but yes. That too.
I nodded.
He sighed.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” I let my reply linger, then started walking again. “I don’t know what to do. And Ethan seems to think I’m crazy for believing there’s still danger. He’s worried that if I bring it up to her . . .”
“I told you—he has a strong protective streak.”
“Yeah, but it’s not helping anyone here. I need to know what Kaira saw in there. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Maybe he’s right, though? Maybe it’s not the best time to ask her? I know you think she’s strong, but Kaira can be as fragile as the rest of us. I don’t mean to take sides, but maybe it’s best to just hold off on digging deeper until she’s better.”
I should have known Oliver would team with his boyfriend. But I’d hoped he’d at least see my side of things.
Kill him.
The words echoed in my ears.
“What did you say?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to say I didn’t say anything.
But I couldn’t speak. Had I said that out loud? Why would—
Kill him. Before he is a threat.
I looked over and saw Oliver, impaled on the tree, blood dripping down his wounds like sap. My hands were coated in his blood. Blink, and I saw myself laughing, tracing crimson circles at his feet. Offering him as another sacrifice to the gods. My gods.
His blood will be your power, Endbringer. Embrace it. Use it. Kill the Shadechild; bring back your sister.
I stumbled back, panic constricting my throat. And when I blinked, Oliver stood there, unharmed. Waiting for my reply.
I didn’t answer him. I looked around, my heart still racing. Tree limbs curved like daggers. Blink, and bodies hung in the branches. Some impaled, others twisting from nooses. I dropped to my knees. Squeezed my hands to my head and shut my eyes, tried to shut out the carnage, but I couldn’t force out the smell of blood, the sound of birds feasting. The sound of Heru laughing.
“Chris, ar
e you okay?” Oliver asked, his voice a thousand leagues away.
When I opened my eyes again, the bodies were still there in the trees. Their blood dripped rivers, and carrion birds spiraled in the sun. And the bodies, their eyes. They all stared at me. Just like the crows outside Kaira’s window.
But these didn’t fill me with fear. My heart was racing, yes.
With anticipation. With excitement.
“No,” I muttered. Squeezed my head harder. I couldn’t force away the screams, the laughter—my laughter, my madness, my power. Heat built between my fingertips. Heat, and light.
“Chris—”
Oliver’s voice was far away. I looked at him, where he stood, his arms bound behind his back and vultures pecking at his innards. He was still talking. How was he still talking?
“No!” I cried. Tears formed. They didn’t wash away his image. The vultures picking at flesh. The blood ringing his bound body.
I screamed.
And there, walking through the carrion, was Kaira. But not Kaira.
She wore her cloak of black feathers. Her eyes glowed violet. Ravens tousled in her hair. She walked through the dead and dying, and she was smiling. Somewhere in the back of my chest, I felt a growl form, a hatred that burned brighter than any I’d ever known. And a single word, a single motive.
Kill.
I shook my head, tried to force down the anger, her otherworldly visage, but there was no escape in the darkness. I felt her neck in my hands, ravens bursting from her mouth like black tongues. I felt my blade in her chest, piercing shadows and feathers and ancient bones. I felt her blood in my veins. The falcon’s claws in my heart.
I will kill her. I will kill them all.
“Chris,” she said. Her hand on my shoulder.
My vision exploded. I was no longer in the woods. A field spread around me, bodies lying like broken chess pieces. Piled against each other in drooping towers. The scent of decay clung to my nostrils, churned bile in my throat, and when I brought my hand to cover my mouth, I saw that it, too, was covered in blood. Blood, like the crimson that flowed in streams, that turned the ground to marsh. I gagged, looked away, tried to find some patch of land not covered in carnage. Smoke curled in the distance. Towers burned. And farther, staining the horizon black, was a great tree. The World Tree. Yggdrasil, its trunk stretching up between the realms of gods and man. The moment I saw it, I felt the pull. The desire. The need.
To serve. To kill. To feed.
“Chris,” Kaira said again. I turned to her, a sword somehow in my bloodied hands.
Kaira was yards away. She stood proudly, bloodstained, commanding a chariot drawn by ravens. And I, I floated above the flooded ground, glowing and golden, with three pairs of wings sprouting from my back and a halo of daggers behind my skull.
May our battle nourish the Tree on which our worlds turn.
She said.
I said.
And we charged. And the world froze.
I closed my eyes against the impact.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
The blow never came. Slowly, I opened my eyes. My fingers dug into the snow. Clean snow. Oliver stood there, his hand on my shoulder. Not Kaira’s hand after all.
What the hell was that?
What the hell is happening to me?
And then, his voice: You have opened the door, Endbringer. You will let me in. Or I will make you suffer.
“Are you okay?” Oliver asked. His voice sounded too loud. I shuddered. No, I wasn’t okay. How the hell was I going to be okay?
How was I going to save Kaira, when I couldn’t even keep my own shit in check?
I looked to the ice. To the fishermen’s huts all quaint and pastoral with their warm interiors and shadowed faces. The quiet lake. The quiet woods. Everything too quiet. Too beautiful and quiet. Why didn’t they realize? The world was going to end. And I was going to bring it about.
I let Oliver pull me up to standing. “I’m fine. Sorry, just . . .” But there was no lie to make sense of what I’d done. What I’d seen. “I should get some sleep.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. He studied me, watching, waiting to see if I would let on more. Waiting to see if I could give a logical explanation for what was clearly insanity. If I had hoped to gain him as an ally, to get him to convince Ethan I wasn’t insane, I’d just destroyed that chance.
Maybe that was for the best. Maybe I shouldn’t let them close.
I wanted to be safe.
I wasn’t safe.
Finally, though, Oliver nodded and began walking. He didn’t ask me to say more. I couldn’t tell if I found that comforting or enraging. Why didn’t he see that something was wrong? Why didn’t he sense that this was bigger than murders or suicides, that the world as we knew it was crashing down?
Why was I the only one sane enough to see it?
When we reached the campus again, he paused and turned to me, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Do you think she’s the next target?” he asked.
Kaira’s image flashed through my mind, but not the scene with her covered in ravens. It was the two of us, me with my hands around her throat. A smile on my lips. I pushed it away. I would not hurt her. No matter what Heru thought, no matter what he showed me. I would never hurt her. Never.
“I hope not,” I replied.
He nodded, like that was enough. I wished that could be enough.
We walked back toward the dorms together. Oliver was in the other guys’ dorm, and when we reached the entry to mine, he lingered there, hands in his pockets and his eyes darting around to everywhere but me.
“Don’t hold it against him, yeah?” he asked. “Ethan’s under a lot of stress. Losing people is really hard on him, you know? He’s scared for Kaira, and that makes him act out.”
I nodded. Losing people was hard on everyone, so why did Oliver make it sound like Ethan had a special reason?
Maybe I didn’t know anything about my friends. But they didn’t know anything about me, either.
“Try to get some sleep,” he added. Then he stepped forward and gave me a hug.
“Her death will be sweet,” he whispered into my ear, hugging me tighter.
I jolted back.
“What?”
“What?” he replied.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” His expression changed. Into one very similar to the way Ethan had been looking at me since last night.
Then I saw the falcon, perched on a streetlamp behind his shoulder, glowing with a light of its own.
“Right. Sorry. Good night.”
I didn’t give him or the bird a second look. It was all I could do not to run inside.
Her death will be sweet.
It wasn’t the words that scared me. It was the effect they had on me.
Deep in the pit of that flame in my chest, I felt excited.
Clouded dreams.
Golden
Feathers
Branch and Bone.
The gods created you for this.
I sit in the gnarled branches of the World Tree while falcons swirl above, rocs
and thunderbirds, great wings flashing light
lightning.
Clouds part like palms, streams of light and blood
an offering of gold.
“You cannot run from us.”
He says.
They say.
Heru floats above the boughs, his wings unfurled and glowing, rays
of light caught by the clouds, daggers swirling
an aura of iron.
“You were made for war. For victory.
Their end is your beginning.”
And I turn from the branches of brazen birds
to see the field. Bodies strewn like snowflakes, blades
broken, cities carved. Carrion
birds feasting.
“I don’t want this.”
But my words falter. Fail.
I do want
this.
I was made for this.
I want nothing less.
As ravens fall, as owls weep, the golden boy extends
his hands, the heavens
open, breathe light unto the field. Bodies glisten
like gold. Beautiful in their decay.
“The Tree must have
its sacrifice. The world must offer itself
to be given itself. Yggdrasil created you
for this. Created her
for this. Us
for this. It demands our piety.
Our offering. Only then
will its branches blossom. And in
those buds, our ambrosia
will flow.”
Honey drips from the heavens, from branches
far above. Honey, thick and sweet.
Thick and sweet and red
as blood.
It falls to the bodies, coats them
in tar. Falls on one body. With a cloak of raven feathers
and hair as dark as the banished night.
“Kaira.”
And I am beside her, my hands reaching
for a heart that will not beat, a hand
that will not clench. Her cloak
splays like wings, shredded and bent. The ravens
ring her, broken, beakless, a zero circle.
“You were born of blood,” Heru says
his golden light a heat I can’t escape.
“Too young to remember . . .”
And his hand is on the back of my neck, presses up. In. Through
my skull, clutching my brain, and there is light
such light
as the world breaks and my skull cracks
and I am there, before a woman. Who is my mother.
Is not the mother I know.
She lies in her blood on the hospital table
and my father is held back, doctors screaming his name
as he screams hers.
But I am there. The child that killed her, held
in a doctor’s arms. Bloody, silent, my lips
sticky with her blood.
No.
No.
“No—”
“The child of the Aesir is born in blood
and through that blood he wields his power.”
I turn to scream, to kill the god
but he is gone, the room is gone, and the black sea