Shattered Promises 1

by Jessica Sorensen

  My mind has melted into wax and air has gotten trapped in my lungs. “Would you bite me, if I said yes?”

  “What do you think?” His lips part and I feel his teeth nick my skin. I don’t move because I want to know. I want to stay right here.

  As I’m entirely letting go to my curiosity and my body’s need for an answer, his tongue slides out and he licks me like a dog. My eyes snap open as he pulls away and there’s a huge smile on his face.

  “I would never bite you, sweetheart,” he says with humor in his eyes. “You’re too innocent and pure and that makes for a bad addiction.” When I pout, he touches his finger to my bottom lip. “And besides, I’d never be able to forgive myself if I bit you.” I let my lip return to its rightful place as he gets up from the stool and makes his way to the window. “And I’m not a fan of feeding. I’ve only done it a few times and it makes me feel guilty afterwards.” He draws back the curtain and lets the sunlight inside. “So, what do you want to do next—”

  The window explodes, sending shards of glass through the air, like deadly raindrops. Laylen ducks down as a wave of ice rushes through the broken window and curves down to the floor. It slithers towards my feet and spirals up and attaches to the ceiling, forming thick beams.

  “Laylen!” I jump from the stool and it topples over. “Are you okay?”

  As I round the corner of the island, he stands up. My brain barely registers his movements as he races over to me at an inhuman speed and grabs my hand. The next thing I know, we’re racing down the hallway and the ice is chasing us.

  “What the hell was that?” I pant as I force my legs to take longer strides.

  “Death Walkers.” He veers us to the right as one of the rooms’ doors blows from the hinges and flies towards our heads. The rest of the doors follow and he hunkers down, pulling me down with him. He shields my head with his arm and glances up and down the hall. “I have no idea how they fucking found us.”

  Ice crawls across the floor, along the ceilings and glazes the walls. Snow whirls in the air as the house begins to crack down the center of the floor. It’s petrifyingly cold and I have flashbacks to the night in the woods, being chased, watching the Death Walkers take out the cabin with their ice.

  My heart hammers in my chest as I tuck my head into his shoulder. “What do we do?”

  His chin brushes the top of my head as he turns his head from left to right. “Come on. Follow me. And keep your head down.”

  He moves his body away from mine and keeps his head low as he gets down on his hands and knees, crawling toward the front door. I follow; the ice on the floor burns against my palms and the wintery cold air crisps my eyelashes. Beams are forming in bulks, creating a jail cell with no way out.

  I continue to follow Laylen, sliding from left to right out of the beams, but fog starts to seep through the open doors and windows, filling up the entire house. Before I know it, I can’t see a damn thing.

  “Laylen?” I cough against the plunging temperature in the air. “Laylen, where are you?” He doesn’t answer. “Laylen, please.”

  The dead silence is terrifying, but I try not to panic. I crawl on my hands and knees until I find my way into a room that’s clear from the murky fog. I jump to my feet and remove the knife from my back pocket; noting the blue tint of my skin and the tremble and tightness of my frozen limbs. The fog is getting to me and I need to move fast before I get hypothermia.

  “What the hell should I do?” There are no windows in the room, just a few empty shelves and a door. I quickly run over to it, but it comes crashing down and flies straight at my head. I drop to the floor, flat on my stomach, and the blade of the knife grazes my hand and slices my palm open. With my uninjured hand, I begin to push myself up when something steps up in front of my face. Black fabric circles its feet and ice cracks out from under it.

  I kneel up and tip my chin up to the Death Walker standing in front of me. It’s sickening to look at up close; dry peeling skin and blood oozing from the visible muscles. Its eyes are hidden underneath the hood, but the glow is blinding.

  I skitter backward on my knees, poising the knife out in front of me. Without warning, it charges, sending ice dispersing from the walls and ceiling. The shards are as sharp as glass and each piece that hits me rips at my skin. I manage to swing the knife at the monster, knowing it won’t kill it, but hoping it will wound it. I only slice the fabric of its cloak, though, and seem to piss it off. I dodge to the side and try to get my feet steady beneath me, but it floats over my head and lands behind me. I whirl and aim the knife at it again, but I’m way off goal and I stab at the air.

  My feet slip against the slick floor as I try to spin back around to run, but it grabs ahold of my arm and lifts me up until my legs are dangling below me. I open my mouth to scream, but a dense cloud puffs from its fleshless lips. Cold air enters my throat and steals the sound away.

  Bits of ice and frost crackle across the inside of my mouth and down my airway. The Death Walker tips its head back, lets out a blood curdling scream and countless shrieks echo throughout the house. Its fingers leave my arm and I crumple to the floor, clutching my neck as I roll onto my back. The Death Walker cries out again as my body stops falling, each limb dying. The ice spreads down into my lungs, wrapping around each bone, contracting them and I can feel the skin shriveling from the pressure. I listen to my heart still as the Death Walker leans over me. As it opens its mouth again, my heart goes silent. Then everything goes black.

  Chapter 17

  “Sometimes I think it’d be better if I were dead,” I say to Alex as I walk around the trees and head further into the forest.

  He catches me by the arm, jerks me back and twirls me around to look at him. “Why would you ever say that?”

  I stare at the lake that’s peeking through the brim of the forest. “Because then, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain anymore.”

  He hooks his finger under my chin and makes me look at him. His green eyes glisten in the sunlight that is flickering through the branches of the trees. It looks like he’s about to cry and I don’t understand why. “If you couldn’t feel the pain anymore, then you wouldn’t be able to feel how great it feels when it leaves you. Without pain, everything else wouldn’t matter to you. It would all be the same.”

  “Sometimes I think that’d be better.”

  “Better than love?”

  I swallow hard as tears puddle the corners of my eyes. “I don’t know if I know what that is and I’m not sure I ever will.”

  He embraces my cheek with his hand and grazes his thumb just below my eyes. “Yes, you will. You’ll know because for a moment, that pain will be gone.”

  ***

  “Gemma, can you hear me?” Alex whispers. “Gemma, wake up.”

  I feel myself being lifted and then arms coddle me closer to a tepid chest. Electricity webs through me and the ice in my body shrinks and melts. I’m no longer cold, but feverish. I tuck my head in and let the heat take me over as light gleams around me.

  “Whatever you do, don’t go to sleep,” he says. “Keep your eyes open.”

  I’m trying, but it’s hard. I can’t… Suddenly I can’t feel the pain anymore.

  ***

  I wake up confused and with an earsplitting headache. My hand is bandaged up, I’m lying in a log bed, and there’s a blanket over me and a pillow under my head. The walls are made of the same logs as the bed and so is the nightstand and the dresser. There’s an antique vanity in the corner and a window next to it, which shows the extensive scenery of mountains that are submerged in snow.

  I clutch my head as I sit up and blink my eyes, trying to piece everything together, but my memories are a bit foggy. “Am I back in Wyoming? Holy fuck, have I been dreaming the entire time?”

  “Depends on where you think the dream started from?” Alex’s voice wraps around my body and makes me remember the dream I’d been having. It also makes me remember all the things Laylen and I talked about.

  He’s
by the doorway, looking comfortable as he leans against the doorframe with his arms folded. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, faded jeans with a tear in the thigh area, different from the clothes I saw him in last time, and his dark brown hair is damp.

  I lower my hand from my head. “How long have I been out?”

  “A little over six hours,” he answers simply. “You were pretty out of it.”

  “Six hours?” I start to get up, but the soreness in my head sends me straight back to the bed. “What happened? Because the last thing I can remember is the Death Walker breathing on me, then it felt like I was dying.”

  He uncrosses his arms, walks across the room and sits down at the foot of the bed. “You should have been dead. The Death Walker breathed the Chill of Death on you and it’s lethal, but somehow… somehow you’re alive.”

  I check over my arms, which have fingernail-size cuts all over them. “How did I survive?”

  He shakes his head and the muscles in his arms go stiff. “I have no idea. All I can figure is it has to do with the star being inside you.”

  The star. I wish he’d stop reminding me. I throw the blankets off me and move my legs over the edge of the bed. “Where are Aislin and Laylen?”

  He rubs his hand down his face and sighs. “Aislin couldn’t transport all four of us out of the house at the same time, so she had to make two trips. When she transported back to get Laylen, she never came back.”

  “What!” I exclaim and begin to put weight on my feet, despite my wobbly knees. “Well, we have to go back there and get them. I mean, the Death Walkers were there and they—”

  He grabs my arm and gently steers me to the side so I fall onto his lap. “Calm down, my father called not too long after and said they were fine. That Aislin’s crystal had shattered, but they were able to make it to the car and drive to the city.”

  I remember the conversation Laylen and I had in the kitchen. “So they’re okay?”

  He nods. “Yeah, they’re okay—everyone is okay. Everything is going to be okay. God, it’s nice to be able to finally say that.”

  Why does it feel like there are pieces of the story missing? “Did you talk to them yourself?”

  “Who? Aislin and Laylen?” he asks and I nod. “No, I tried like a thousand times before my father called, but their phones went straight to voicemail.”

  “Then, how did your father get ahold of them?”

  “They called him from Adessa’s.”

  “And where are they now?”

  He eyes me over suspiciously. “They’re all headed here. Why?”

  “And what about Marco and Sophia?” I say, cradling my bandaged hand as I tip back. “Where are they?”

  “I’m not sure, yet,” he replies with a dash of annoyance. “When we went back to Laramie, we couldn’t find anyone.”

  None of this makes sense and it’s frustrating because he doesn’t seem to care. It’s like he’s blind—brainwashed. “And what about your father? Where was he this entire time?”

  “He was out in Magia Terra.” He takes my injured hand in his and traces the folds between my fingers.

  “Magia Terra?” My body responds elatedly to his touch, but I tell it to shut the hell up.

  “It’s like this wasteland where useless or broken magical objects are dumped,” he explains as his finger roams to my palm where the knife entered. “He does work there a lot and there’s no reception whatsoever. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.”

  “But he’s back now?” I frown as he brings my hand to his lips and he delicately kisses the bandaged area. He’s being weird. Too affectionate.

  He nods, then picks me up by the hips and turns me around to face him. “He’s headed here now, so relax.” He kisses my neck as his fingers sneak up between my legs and he spreads them open so there’s one on each side of him. “Everything’s fine.”

  Everything isn’t fine. I have no idea where we are, what happened, or what exactly was said when Stephan finally called. I’ve missed a lot while I’ve been out and the only person that has been completely honest with me isn’t here.

  His fingers travel up the top of my leg and he kneads my thighs with his fingers. “Relax, everything’s okay.”

  I crane my neck and glance back out the window at the snow-covered land. “Where are we?”

  “We’re in one of the Keepers cabins in Colorado.” He fixes a finger underneath my chin and makes me look back at him. “Can we stop talking about this now? I’d really rather be doing other stuff,” he says in a demanding tone and then he leans forward and kisses me freely.

  It’s completely out of character for him. Usually, he’s either out-of-control or trying to restrain himself and the last time we talked, he made it pretty clear that he thinks of me as just the star. He’s too comfortable, as if he suddenly thinks it’s okay to kiss me and touch me. I need to stop him and get some answers.

  “I think we should…” I begin to protest against his lips, but I trail off as his tongue determinedly enters my mouth.

  His hands slide up to my waist, leaving a trail of heat on my stomach as they touch my bare skin. Turning us to the side, he winds one hand around my back and covers my body with his as he lays me on my back. He spreads my legs open and positions his body between my legs and we fit perfectly together. At least for a moment, but as his hand wanders up the front of my shirt and cups the outer layer of my lacy bra, I remember how powerful his touch is and I scream at my brain to snap out of it.

  It works. I wiggle my arms between us and, with effort, push him back. “Is there any way I can take a shower? I’d like to wash off all my cuts.”

  He pants, his green eyes glossy as he studies me. Then, his hand leaves my shirt and sneaks between my legs. “You want to take one right now,” he says, rubbing me.

  My body quivers for his fingers to be inside me, but I fight against it, and remain in control. I nod because I need a second to clear my head and try to figure out what’s going on.

  He sighs and then brings me with him as he stands to his feet. He tugs my shirt back over my stomach and tucks a few pieces of my hair behind my ear. Then he laces his fingers with mine, leads me across the room and scoops up a bag near the doorway. “While we were in Laramie, we stopped by your house and picked up some of your clothes and stuff.”

  “Thank you,” I say and take the bag from him.

  He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You’re welcome.”

  If it wasn’t for the flow of electricity, I’d think he’s the mirage because Alex is not affectionate. Hot, intense, irrational, maybe even a little bipolar—yes. Loving and caring—no.

  He shows me where the bathroom is and then makes a joke about taking a shower with me before leaving. I’m lost and I don’t know what to do. Jump out the window and run through the mountains? Trust Alex? Trust Stephan?

  I strip off my clothes and let the water run hot before I step in and close the curtain. Rinsing off my body feels like I’m rinsing off the last few days. By the time I step out, I feel a little bit better. Not trusting, but better.

  The room is overflowing with steam and I can barely see. I feel around for a towel and then wrap it around me. When I head to the counter where my bag is, the steam parts open and reveals a figure standing near the door.

  I step back and tighten the towel around me. “Hello?”

  He takes a step forward and exposes his dark green eyes, messy brown hair, broad shoulders and an amused smile on his lips. It looks like Alex, but I can tell right away that it isn’t by the lack of voltage in my body.

  “Shit… You’re the mirage.” I back toward the shower, smacking my knee on the corner of the porcelain tub as I work to hold the towel together. He matches my moves, mimicking my pace, and then speeds up when I reach the stained glass window in the corner.

  “And you’re Gemma.” His voice is soft like velvet, alluring even. “Beautiful, confused, poor, broken Gemma.” He trails his fingers along the top of the towel, just above my
chest. I bend my knee to kick him, but he bends his own and his knee caps restrain my legs against the wall. His hand drifts toward my neck and I let out a scream as I smack his hand away.

  He slaps his hand over my mouth, snatches ahold of my wrists, and twists my arm in a very awkward position. Then he spins me around so my back is pressed against his chest and his arms snake around my midsection. I raise my foot and fling my leg back to kick him, but he hops away and dodges my endeavor. His arms constrict around my arms and his skin is warm against mine, but not in the same way as Alex’s. He has a strange smell to him, like lilacs mingled with freshly fallen rain. The smell is pungent and makes me nauseous.

  He covers my mouth with his hand as he directs us toward the door and I bite down on his skin. “Dammit.” He slaps the back of my head as he curses and I swing my head back; making us lose balance and we slam into the toilet.

  As he works to get us both to our feet, without letting go of me, the door comes crashing in and Alex rushes inside. The blood promptly drains from his face. “What the fuck?”

  The mirage laughs disdainfully as his arms wrap back around me. “Hello to you, too, old friend.”

  “Old friend?” My eyes widen and I freeze. “Alex, you know him?”

  Alex shakes his head, looking as perplexed as I feel. “Who are you?”

  The mirage shakes his head. “I’ll be the one asking the questions.”

  Alex glances at me for an explanation and I shrug. He cautiously takes a step further inside the room, closing in on us. “Why? You have no place to go.”

  The mirage laughs again. “I think you’re forgetting what a mirage is and how we travel. I can be out of here quicker than you can blink, if I want to.”

  “Fuck.” Alex stops moving and clenches his fists as he battles to contain himself. My body lets out a terrified shudder. I’ve never seen him worried. Usually, he’s the man with the plan, but he looks helpless and lost.

  The mirage’s mouth moves next to my neck and a floral scent whelms my nostrils. “Shudder again and I might just take you back to my house instead of where I’m supposed to take you. I could have a lot of fun with you.”