8
Eric
Teresa was lying on my bed, her black hair spilling off the side. She tapped her painted nails against her stomach, and I watched her, unsure of why she dragged me out only to read Mindy’s magazines in my room.
“What’s this about, Camille?”
“A lot.” She sighed and flipped the page. “The elders have me practicing my Light powers.” She cringed. “I’m really uncomfortable with it.”
I frowned. Camille never talked about her Light side. “Why’s it uncomfortable?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” she said, changing her mind as she stared at me upside down. “But there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”
I laid my chin on my hands. “So talk about it.”
“Jonathon told me your father forced you to bond with Noah and Mindy last night,” she said, sitting up to catch my eyes. “How’d that go?”
“Okay,” I shrugged, relying on my remarkable lying skills. “I still don’t like them though.”
She lifted her thin, black eyebrows. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
Did she know? I locked my jaw. There was no possible way. She couldn’t.
“No.”
Her expression fell, and she shook her head back and forth. “Eric,” she sighed. “Your father told me you went out with Pierce last night, but it’s obvious you didn’t go.”
I tensed. “Did you tell him?”
“No.” She glared and waved her hands in the air. “But why’d you do it? Don’t you know how dangerous it is for you to go out, let alone by yourself?”
She didn’t know about the girl.
“I know, Camille,” I said, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Her lips thinned. “Did you activate anything?”
“You would’ve felt it if I did,” I said, unable to make eye contact. By being the first descendant, I inherited stronger, more reliable powers. My favorite one was my sword, but I could never use it unless I was in a secure room in the shelter. The Light could track it, and they would kill me when they did.
I hadn’t used my descendant powers outside the shelter in years.
“I stayed out of sight last night,” I said, dragging my fingers through my hair. “I promise.”
She widened her blue eyes. “They’d blame me if you got killed.”
“But I didn’t get killed,” I said, grabbing the edge of the bed. “And nothing happened. I was safe. I wouldn’t do anything stupid.” Except talk to a nameless shade.
Camille—in Teresa form—flickered from her emotions. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore,” she said, and I groaned, staring at the ceiling.
“I just need to get out more,” I said. “At home, I’m stuck as a human, and I’m stuck in the prophecy at the shelter.”
“Because you’re the first descendant, Shoman,” Teresa yelled, using my shade name without thinking. “You need to be able to handle it.”
“How can I when I’m protected all the time?” I asked, glaring at my guard. “I can’t even practice my powers without the Light tracking me. I have a year until this battle, and, at this rate, we are going to lose.”
Camille quieted, and I hung my head, shaking it back and forth and regretting my honesty. “In my mind,” I said. “I have a year to live.”
Silence spilt between us, and I lifted my head as my guard laid a hand on my shoulder. She managed a smile. “I’m doing my best to understand you—you’re like a little brother to me—but I don’t want you to get hurt or killed.”
“I know.”
“That being said,” she continued, winking. “If you want a little more freedom, I won’t follow you around as much.”
I shot up. “Are you being serious?”
Her small smile spread into a grin. “I’ll only come when you call me.”
I squinted at her. “But why?”
She shrugged. “If it means winning the Marking of Change, then I don’t have much of a choice,” she said. “But—” She shook her thin finger at me. “You have to promise me something.”
“Anything,” I said.
Camille held up a necklace with a black tree pendant swinging on the bottom. “There’s a remedy inside this,” she said, twisting the top before pulling down the stump. A dark liquid waved inside the branches.
“It’ll heal any Light spell,” Camille said, closing it. “Luthicer and I made it last night.”
Luthicer was the only half-breed elder in the Dark, and he taught Camille everything she knew. Personally, I hated him. He was a prick—always trying to make me look incompetent as the first descendant. In his opinion, surely, there was a mistake.
I grabbed the pendant from her and stared at the black liquid inside. “What do you want me to do with this?” I asked, and she straightened up, beaming.
“Wear it at all times,” she said, and I nodded instantaneously.
“It’s a deal.”
Minutes Before Sunset Page 11