Wilde's Army

by Krystal Wade

  “H-here.” A shiny silver blade appears over my shoulder.

  “Use t-t-this,” Enid says.

  I grab the blade and cut the twine. “Thanks.”

  Now the brown chicken dangles from the rope I hold in my hands.

  When I turn around, Enid is gone.

  A loud scream resonates through the air, hitting my ears and matching the misery welling inside me.

  The chicken falls from my hands.

  My legs lock in place. Black bands of pulsing energy crackle as they climb my body, burning and slicing through my skin like knives. I cannot move, cannot open my mouth. I want to scream, want to cry out for someone—anyone—to help. Pain constricts my breathing as the bands blanket me with Darkness. The wild beating of my heart pounds in my ears. If only it was loud enough for someone else to hear. Control of my fingers, my toes, of any muscle that would give me flight, vanishes.

  White light flows out of me and into the bands of the shifter. Growing from the feet up, the daemon takes my form with a wicked smile. I’ve never seen such a perfect replica of myself—not even a mirror could provide quality so astounding—but I look tired. Small, swollen circles rest under my green eyes. My hair is mussed around my face as if I just crawled out of bed.

  The imposter waves, turns, then takes off with my body.

  My vision fades.

  Brit! Help me!

  Chapter Ten

  Fingers, toes, mouth … I cannot feel any of these things. No smells fill my nose. No light shines in my eyes. I don’t know where I am; I’m not even sure if I’m alive.

  Wake up, magic. Help me. Free me. Kill the Shifter.

  I’ve repeated these commands a hundred times since the imposter turned and walked away. Although, I don’t know if that’s true—keeping count is not at the top of my agenda, and memories are fading in and out. I think something, then the thought disappears. No control. I have no control.

  Brit, Arland . . . anybody?

  Where am I? Why isn’t anyone helping me? I want to scream, want to run for help, but I remain paralyzed. My thoughts are the only sounds I can make.

  Brit!

  Maybe I’ve gone insane. Maybe I’m drugged. Why else would I not be able to feel or see?

  “Kate?”

  A flash of the daemon stealing my body sweeps through my mind.

  “Kate!”

  Maybe this is just a dream. How could a shifter take me over? You can’t be trapped inside yourself. I must be dead.

  “Kate, snap out of it. I’m here. Arland is here, too.”

  Brit’s voice keeps popping into my head. I’m imagining things … or answering myself. This is how a ghost must feel when trapped between worlds. No body to cling to. No purpose. Nowhere to go. I’m a ghost. That’s what I am.

  “Kate! Shut up! You sound nuts.”

  I don’t know why I feel the need to give in to my lunacy, but I do. “Brit? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me! Who else do you talk to in your head?”

  Maybe I’m not dead. Maybe I am actually hearing Brit’s thoughts.

  “Listen to me. You’re not going crazy. You’ve been attacked by a shifter.” The voice sounds just like Brit’s; her tone even has a nervous edge to it.

  How could I not believe what I’m hearing is real?

  “Where am I?” If I am talking to Brit, maybe she’ll have a reasonable explanation for me.

  “By the horses. Do you wanna know what happened?” She sighs.

  “Yes. I remember the shifter, but—”

  “On their way back from base, Cadman and Perth found Lann and Enid—the real Lann and Enid. They were covered in those same nasty daemon tentacles Arland and I had on us. When he realized Enid wasn’t Enid, he came up to find her, and when I told him you had just gone off with her to get a chicken, he freaked. Cadman was carrying Enid in his arms when it happened. It was . . . I don’t want to tell you what it was. Just . . . well, anyway, Arland grabbed his bow and ran over to rescue you. It was amazing to watch him release arrow after arrow into the daemon. Arland loves you, Kate. He really loves you. The shifter thingy is dead, but the tentacles are still covering most of your body. We don’t know how to get them off. Not even Mom knows. Are you listening to me? Kate?”

  There’s no way I’m imagining this. I know my sister’s voice. I can almost feel her presence locked in this formidable place next to me. “I can’t see anything. It’s dark, Brit. It’s lonely. I thought I was dead.”

  “You aren’t dead. Can you not see through my eyes like you did last time?” Pity. If I had to describe her voice, it’s full of pity.

  “I don’t pity you, Kate. I feel bad, but not pity. Can you see through my eyes or not?”

  “No, I cannot see through your eyes.”

  “Think, Kate. Think hard. What were you doing last time?”

  “I don’t know, Brit. I . . . I can’t remember.” I try to think, try to force my mind to remember how I got into her last time, but it’s no use. It’s as though no brain exists to tell me what to do.

  “Maybe if I stay quiet and let you concentrate, you’ll find your way into me again, and then you will at least be able to see.”

  “No! Don’t leave me, and definitely don’t be quiet. I can’t handle being alone again.”

  “Relax. I won’t leave you. I won’t be quiet either, but you need to think; think of how you got into my head before.”

  Her calm, soothing tone brings me back to Virginia, back to the early days of my nightmares. She’d always tell me to relax, always talk me to sleep, but this is different. I’m not having visions of my future; here I may not have a future. I’m trapped. My body a prison.

  “Magic won’t even respond; I don’t think I can get into your head.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get so jumpy.”

  Jumpy? I’m not jumpy. Maybe I am. It’s not like I can feel anything. I’m practically floating in space. Or nonexistent. Honestly, I can find no accurate words to describe this.

  “So you can’t feel anything?”

  “No. It’s like there is no me beyond my thoughts. Isn’t that what it felt like to you?”

  “I don’t remember. If I felt or thought anything while the shifter took me over, I don’t know about it.”

  “Huh. Well, maybe that’s a good thing. Can you tell me what you see, Brit?”

  “I’d rather you see yourself.”

  “Me too, but please, just tell me. I need something to hang on to. The only thing I see is black and it’s . . . .”

  “Okay. We’re near the horses. Arland and Mom are hovering over you. Mom is crying. She swears she didn’t see this coming. I don’t believe her. I want to, but I don’t. Arland is a wreck. Keeps muttering something under his breath about failing you. Perth . . . well, Cadman punched Perth after he made a snide comment to Arland about not doing his job to protect you. Flanna is making food for the kids. They’re in shock from what happened to the real Enid, but even Flanna is having a difficult time maintaining her emotions. Lann is in pretty bad shape. Arland sent Cadman and Ogilvie to dig a hole—”

  “Wait. A hole? What happened to the real Enid, what happened to Lann?”

  “She . . . she died. Lann may not live another hour . . . .”

  How poor of shape am I in? “How did Enid die? And why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. The tentacles squeezed Enid to death, but I don’t think that will happen to you. The daemon isn’t even alive to hurt you. You’re just stuck. We can save you. I know we can.” Brit rushes out a steady stream of thoughts—she has no confidence.

  “Slow down, Brit. Do Mom and Arland know you’re talking to me?”

  “Yes. Arland practically begged me to get into your head.”

  Arland. I may not be able to feel anything, but I know what he must be feeling. “Did you tell him I’m okay?”

  “You aren’t okay, Kate. You’re stuck.”

  As if I don’t know this
. “Does he know you’re talking to me?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Go tell him. Now.”

  “Alright, boss.” Geez, Kate’s not even here and she’s telling me what to do—and I’m listening.

  “Uhh, Brit, I can hear you.”

  “Good! Next time say please.”

  I know she’s teasing, but it does little to make this better. “Brit, please, just go talk to Arland.”

  “I am. I’m by him now. What do you want me to say?”

  “Just tell him you’re talking to me.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  Silence returns. I wish I could look around, see something, bide my time twisting my hair around my fingers, but I can’t. There are only my thoughts and a paralyzing nothingness.

  “Okay. Instead of hovering over you, now Arland’s hovering over me. His eyes are red—I swear it looks like he’s going to burst into tears. Anyway, he wants to know if you can use magic.”

  “Tell him I’ve tried, and ask him if he’s tried to cut the bands from me.”

  “They won’t. They’re afraid you will bleed even worse.”

  “Even worse than what?” I’m afraid I don’t want to know the answer.

  “Than you already are.”

  “Brit?”

  “Yes, Kate?”

  “Am I dying?”

  “No. You aren’t going to die. We are going to free you. You will be fine.”

  My sister’s thoughts drift out of my consciousness, and my own thoughts turn selfish. I’m going to die and never see Arland again. Never experience the joy his lips bring to mine. Never be married. Never … .

  “Kate! Stop that. There has to be a way for you to get inside my head. Maybe you can use the magic through me? I just suggested burning the tentacles from you, but I almost got punched for it by a certain red-head.”

  “Flanna is with you guys now? Does that mean . . . Lann?”

  “He’s gone, Kate. Flanna is beside herself, but I think she’s pouring all her sadness into you. She left the children with Shay and Kegan and came down here with food, thinking that would help. Seeing her like this . . . and with Mom and Arland almost as bad over you . . . you need to come out of this. Do you understand?”

  If I wasn’t trapped inside myself, I could have helped Lann. Flanna kept her feelings for him a secret for such a long time, and she’s already lost so many things she loves; this isn’t fair. This whole war isn’t fair. “Brit. I love you. You are my sister.”

  “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

  “I’m not. Be quiet. I’m thinking, trying to get in your head. I don’t know if it’ll work.”

  “Okay, quiet. I can do that.”

  “Brit. We look the same. We were born a year to the day apart. I love her. We’re connected.” I don’t know if thinking these things will work, but I have to try. Without my powers, everyone is at risk. Already people are dying.

  “Arland is back, Kate. He thinks if we all stand around you holding hands, it will help. I think he sounds desperate, but I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Why do you not sound desperate, Brit?” I’m beginning to wonder if this is all a dream. My sister is not usually this calm.

  “Because I think if you were going to die—or are dying or whatever—your voice wouldn’t sound so strong. I’m banking on to that.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Go stand around me in a circle.” This is like what we did for Brad, so maybe it’ll work.

  “Alright, we’re in a circle. I’m about to grab hands with Arland and Mom. Ready?”

  “As ready as a person without a body or a sense of feeling can be, I guess.” And it’s not like I have any other options.

  “They want you to speak through me. You give the magic commands, but I’ll say them aloud.”

  “Wake up. Free me of these bands. Heal my broken body.”

  Silence.

  “I said it. Should I say anything else?”

  “That’s usually all I say. Do you feel anything, or do you see any sprites?”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “Brit?”

  Nothing. The all-consuming black space around me wins out over my connection with my sister. I’ve either died and am stuck in-between heaven and wherever I’m at, or something’s happened to her.

  Rubbing my left hand, I try to get the blood flowing through it.

  Wait. My left hand is tingling. I have a left hand! Warmth floods it, rushing up my arm. My arm! I could cry. Feelings, they are incredible, and they are everywhere. Feet. My feet are squeezed into tight-fitting boots and are on the ground. My hands are locked with two others.

  I’m not myself. I’m inside Brit.

  “Brit. Can you hear me?” Worry. I feel worry for my sister.

  “Yes, I’m here. Don’t be worried about me, Kate, I’m fine.”

  “I can feel you. I can feel Arland and Mom holding your hands. I can feel, Brit!”

  Concentrate. I must concentrate. Both hands I’m holding are moist. One is strong and rough, the other thin and dainty, but both are tense. Focusing on where my eyes should be, I think of what I’ll see when I’m in Brit’s head. My body will be motionless on the ground. It won’t be pretty. I’m bleeding—I cannot allow the blood to scare me.

  Light filters in, evaporating the darkness surrounding me. Blurry, yet satisfying, my vision improves. I’m whole, in control; I’m in Brit’s body, but I don’t want to see myself. Turning my head—Brit’s head—I look at Arland. He has been crying. Streaks where tears have run through the dirt, line his strong, emotionless face.

  “Arland,” I say, which is weird because I sound like Brit.

  He doesn’t move. Instead, he stares down at me—the me I refuse to look at right now.

  “Arland, I love you. Please, look at me.”

  Arland snaps his head toward me. His eyes are big, wet, and full of sadness. “Kate?”

  I shrug. “In Brit’s flesh.”

  He closes most of the distance between us, but stops short of hugging me. “I never should have left you alone,” Arland says, not meeting my eyes.

  Breaking my hold on Mom’s hand, I place my palm on his cheek. “Stop. Don’t blame yourself for this. I’ll be fine. Now”—I look down at my body then squeeze my eyes closed before I scream from the amount of blood pooled on the ground around me—”let’s get these things off me. Okay?”

  I look up at Arland; he nods then backs away.

  Raising my arms above my head, I focus on the light in my soul, the things I love, and the things I want to kill, all at once. The fire starts out as a flicker but builds and stretches out from the pit of my stomach to the tips of my fingers. Flames burst from Brit’s body then travel into Arland, Mom, Flanna, Cadman, and Perth. When everyone burns, I turn my head toward the sky. “Wake up, Magic! Burn this daemon from my body, and heal the wounds he caused. Heal Flanna’s broken heart. Take the children’s pain away. Restore our peace.”

  A small opening in the sky releases red sprites. They descend from above, spiraling around each other like a tornado of magic. The trees, rocks, and ground all glow red from the light of the small beings. A few sprites blanket Flanna while others rush toward the cave. Upon reaching my body, they slice through the bands without driving into the remnants of the daemon, as they do during battles. Instead, my rescue comes slow, methodically. Sprites take turns with each cut they inflict.

  My legs are freed first; my exposed skin is raw and swollen. The clothes I wore must have disintegrated. Mom rushes to Cadman and Perth, sending them away with a wave of her hand. I’m about to be naked and ugly, and she knows it.

  Trembling racks Brit’s body. I’m doing everything in my power not to turn around and vomit. The only thing keeping me from doing just that is curiosity. Horrified, I watch the sprites move up my waist, uncovering more damaged skin. Bruises, cuts, blood … everywhere. My breath catches.

  “Brit, are you still with me?”


  “I’m here, Kate . . . this is awful. Do you feel any of it?”

  “No, but I will be okay. The magic will heal me.” It has to. No one could live after something like this. I wonder if Brit and Arland would have looked this bad if I’d killed the daemons in the cave before freeing them. As it was, Brit and Arland looked terrible.

  The sprites cut off the last bands around my face. My body is freed, but from head to toe I’m as good as dead. Chunks of skin are missing. What’s left is pale, red, or black. My hair is caked with blood and dirt. I look like a monster … a zombie.

  Arland’s face does nothing to hide his emotion. He’s blank. His mouth open. His hand loosens in mine.

  I tug at him. “Arland. I’m alive. I’m right here next to you. My body will be healed.”

  He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

  Taking a knee, I get as close to the red sprites as possible. “Can you heal me? I cannot live with these wounds open, and I need more blood. Please.”

  The beings stop and stare at me. One flies right up to my face, transforming from her red flame and showing me her tiny cherub-like cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, blond curls bouncing from side-to-side. The sprite reaches out her pink, glowing finger and touches my nose.

  I feel nothing. It’s as though I’m back in the darkest reaches of myself, but this time I can see as the sprite flies down to my body then touches my real nose.

  I can’t breathe.

  Pain sears through me.

  I gasp for air, but the burning on my skin is too much.

  Screams build from deep within then erupt from my mouth. They do nothing to mask the pain. Nothing to ease my seizing muscles.

  I’ve been lit on fire, and everyone is standing around to watch as I melt. Never have I wanted to be dead, but now death seems the best option.

  “Kate.” The voice. I recognize the voice as Arland’s. It’s warm, soothing—it’s full of love, but I cannot respond.

  Spasms shoot down my spine. My back arches in protest, lifting from the ground and stealing what little breath I’ve managed to fill my lungs with. The spasm releases its hold. Hands prevent me from falling to the earth, cushioning my head and back, but only add to the sting of my wounds.