Greta and the Lost Army (Mylena Chronicles Book 3)

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Greta and the Lost Army (Mylena Chronicles Book 3) Page 15

by Chloe Jacobs


  Suddenly, she was absolutely sure her parents were going to walk in, and she strained to hear every little sound from the front door. She looked around for her shirt and picked it up off the floor. Isaac got up and dressed, too. She watched him shamelessly.

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway a few minutes later made them both freeze. “Wait! You can’t go downstairs,” she said as he moved to the door.

  He frowned. “They knew I would be here.”

  “They didn’t know you’d be in my bed, and if they see you coming down the stairs, they’ll figure out what we did.” They were probably going to know either way. She couldn’t keep the heat out of her cheeks and the stupid grin off her face.

  He went to the window and opened it. She followed and looked down. “Are you sure you can make that?”

  He gave her a look. “Am I not still the goblin king?”

  Maybe her thing with heights just made it look like a far drop. “Okay, okay,” she said with a chuckle, her soul still feeling light, her heart still feeling full.

  The front door had opened. She heard her father’s keys dropping into the tray on the hall table. Halfway out the window, Isaac grabbed her hand. “Let the memories of this night be enough to bring me into your dreams,” he said.

  Was a person supposed to say thank you after an evening like this? It seemed too weird, so she just said, “Dream of me, too, okay?”

  His grin was so sweet she had to smile back. She relaxed her shoulders and let herself enjoy the glow for another moment. She leaned over the sill and kissed him, while pushing him out the window at the same time.

  His gaze stayed locked with hers as he lowered himself to the span of roof jutting out over the kitchen, and then he turned and jumped the rest of the way to the grass below. She’d just closed the window when her mother’s high-heeled shoes started clicking up the stairs.

  She hurried across the bedroom and opened the door. “How was everything?” her mother whispered from the hallway. Greta followed her to check in on Drew.

  He wore blue flannel pajamas with cartoon sharks all over them, and he was sound asleep with a thumb pressed against his mouth, as if he wanted to suck on it but knew—even in sleep—that he was too old for that now. His cheeks were soft and flushed, and his fine blond hair was plastered to his forehead. His eyes twitched under his closed lids. She’d never seen anything more precious.

  His innocence was spared. He’s alive…because of me.

  With a soft smile, Greta left Drew’s side and went back out into the hall, closing the bedroom door quietly so as not to wake him before she said, “It was all good. Nothing to worry about.” She had a strange need to say more, but nothing came out.

  Her mom touched her cheek. “Are you all right?”

  Greta nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  She smiled gently. “Did you and Isaac make up?”

  “Um, sure.” Face burning. She ducked her head. “It was really nothing.”

  Would her mother understand if she tried to explain? Maybe relationships were universal, no matter who or when or where.

  As her mother turned to go, Greta said, “When you and dad started dating, did you ever feel like his parents weren’t going to accept you?”

  “Your grandma and grandpa? Don’t you remember? Your father and I had known each other practically our whole lives by the time we went on our first date. He lived down the street, and I grew up thinking of his family as an extension of my own.” Her mom gave her a long look. “Do you want to come into my room while I change and we can talk about it?”

  Her stomach plummeted. She gathered herself together and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I should probably just get to bed.”

  Her mother touched her shoulder, her expression filled with concern and love. Isaac had been right all this time. She hadn’t done anyone any favors by procrastinating. “Mom, I have to tell you—”

  A loud shriek rang out from Drew’s bedroom.

  Greta lunged for the door and threw it open. She raced inside with both fists up, ready to take on anything…but the room was empty, except for Drew sitting up in bed, squeezing his little body into the corner against the wall as he stared at her with wide, fearful eyes.

  Her mother brushed past her quickly and gathered the boy into her embrace. She cooed softly and brushed his hair with her fingers. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It was only another bad dream. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you.”

  Greta hadn’t breathed since the first note of that piercing cry. Somehow, it was still ringing in her ears. She started to step out of the room but backed right into her father, standing in the doorway.

  His forehead creased deeply as he looked down at her. God, he must think she was a nutcase. She swallowed hard. “Sorry. I’m…sorry.”

  She pushed past him and ran to her bedroom, closing her eyes. She leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, pressing her forehead to her knees.

  Long minutes later, she ignored the knock at her door and her father’s low voice. “Greta?” Maybe he would think she was asleep already.

  Chapter Twelve

  She gathered her parents together in the living room late the next evening after Drew was in bed. She’d already told Isaac and Siona what she planned to do. Isaac had blustered, but then he’d offered to stay and help her explain. She’d said no. She didn’t want either of them around in case her parents decided they needed someone to blame for their daughter’s insanity.

  She clasped her hands tightly together in front of her. “Why don’t you both sit down,” she suggested, pointing to the sofa. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  “Is this about the call from the police earlier?” her mother asked. “They’re going to find your friend, Wyatt, sweetie. Don’t worry.”

  She winced. “This isn’t about Wyatt leaving home. Although it is about me leaving home.” Knowing that she was making the right decision didn’t mean it was any easier. There was a hard lump in her throat that she couldn’t seem to swallow.

  “What are you talking about?” Her mother’s voice cracked with worry.

  Greta smiled. She desperately wanted this discussion to go well. “I know that I told you I ran away four years ago.” She paused and grimaced. “Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth.”

  Her father frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  She sighed. “It’s true that I wasn’t abducted, but I really didn’t run away, either. The whole time I was trying to get back home, and do you know what got me through and gave me hope? It was the certainty that home was where I truly belonged.”

  “Oh, honey—”

  She stopped them both with a raised hand and a shake of her head. “Let me get it all out before you say anything,” she implored. “Because once I do, you might change your minds about me.”

  Her father stood and reached for her hand. She pulled back, but he said, “I don’t know where this is coming from, but nothing you can tell us will change the way we feel about you. You are our daughter.”

  Her chest expanded. Their love gave her strength and confidence. “I know, and I’m more grateful for that than you’ll ever know. But it’s time you knew the truth.”

  “And what is the truth? How did you not run away, but stay away for all that time?” He didn’t sound angry yet, probably because they’d both been aware that there were still details she’d been keeping from them.

  She motioned for him to sit back down. He did, reluctantly. “The fire that Drew said he saw me burn up in when I disappeared? Well, he wasn’t completely wrong about that,” she started.

  She watched their expressions for impatience and disbelief, but maybe they were too stunned to react just yet, so she continued. “Have you ever heard that story about the witch who lures children into her gingerbread house and shoves them into the stove? This was kind of like that, except the gingerbread house was a cave, and instead of a stove it was a bonfire.”

  Her mother’s forehead cr
eased with confusion. “I don’t understand. The police were right about the homeless person?”

  “Not technically.” This wasn’t getting any easier. Might as well just spit it out instead of trying to lay it on them easy. “It was a real witch, and she used real magick to lure Drew into the cave and to turn that bonfire into a portal to another world. I showed up just in time to keep her from snatching him, but ended up getting pushed through the portal instead.” She shuddered. “I thought it was a fire and that I was going to die, but when I opened my eyes, I was freezing my butt off in a snowbank.”

  “Are you trying to say they drugged you and took you somewhere? Is that why you didn’t want to tell us before? Did they get you hooked on drugs?”

  “I know it would be a lot easier to accept what I’m saying if you thought you could write it all off as delusional ramblings brought on by addiction, but that’s not it.” She sighed and tipped her face up. “Have you seen me with the shakes or exhibiting any signs of withdrawal?”

  “Maybe that’s because you’re not in withdrawal.” Her father’s gaze narrowed. His hands clenched into fists. “Which one of the kids you brought home is your dealer?”

  “Dad, stop.” The last thing she wanted was to bring Isaac or Siona into this conversation. She put her hand on his arm and stepped closer. He was shaking. “Look at me. Do you honestly think I’m on drugs?”

  She was still pale from four years of winter, but her hands were steady as a rock, and she knew her gaze was cool and clear as ice. He looked at her for a long moment with gritted teeth before finally shaking his head.

  Greta’s mother reached up and took his hand, pulling him back down to sit beside her. “Let her say what she needs to say, Andrew,” she whispered. Her cheeks leeched of color. She may not consciously believe Greta yet, but a part of her did because she was scared.

  “I should have told you everything right from the start. It might have been easier to convince you with the other boys here to corroborate the story. But we didn’t want the little ones to get dragged off to be interrogated by shrinks and police. They’d been through so much already. We all had.”

  “I think you had better explain everything now.”

  She nodded and twisted her hands together. “It started with the witch, but that was just the beginning.”

  “She pushed you through a…a portal to another world?”

  “It sounds crazy, I know.”

  “Do you? Do you really know?”

  “Yes, of course. For weeks I refused to believe it myself, even though I was stuck in the middle of it. Mylena has two suns and two moons, and it was suddenly the middle of winter, but I still thought for a long time that there must be some other explanation.”

  “This place is called Mylena?”

  She knew exactly what was going through his head, maybe because they were so much alike. She was glad to have been able to learn those kinds of things about herself. She was stubborn and skeptical like her dad. She’d be grateful for those gifts after she left, just as she would be grateful to have her mother’s smile, core strength, and deep sense of loyalty.

  “You’re trying to think of a human city with the same name. You’re going to say that I only thought I was in another world, but I was scared and alone, and I just got confused. Next you’ll say that what I thought was two suns and two moons was most likely an effect brought on by haze in the atmosphere…or something. I know this because I told myself all those things and more.”

  “You were only thirteen, and it’s completely understandable if you—”

  “Maybe if it hadn’t been four years, and maybe if I had been alone, you could say that, but I wasn’t. Not for long. You know what found me? A wraith. All by itself it wasn’t that dangerous. They’re kind of like walking smoke held together by cobwebs. But wraiths like to gather in groups because it gives them strength, and then they like to feed. And wraiths with a taste for blood become a whole ’nother creature altogether.” She shivered as the memory swamped her senses. “I’ve gotten caught in a nest of those, too,” she wheezed, “and barely made it out alive.”

  She shook it off and rushed to finish, hoping to get the whole thing out before her parents started in with any more questions designed to poke holes in her story. “Mylena isn’t friendly to humans, but I was lucky. I met someone who took me in. Luke wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but he protected me until I learned how to survive on my own.”

  “Where is this person? Why didn’t he return you to us?” her mother asked.

  “He couldn’t, Mom,” she said gently. “He didn’t know how to open a portal back to this world any more than I did. And, well…he was killed a few weeks ago.” Was it only a matter of weeks? It felt way longer. So much had happened since then; her entire life had changed.

  “How did he die?”

  “A powerful demon sent his army of gnomes after me, and Luke was one of the casualties.” Both of them looked at her like she’d suddenly started speaking in a foreign tongue. It was kind of funny, actually. She stopped to look at all this from their point of view. Yeah, it was hilarious, but she didn’t dare give in to the laughter bubbling up inside. She needed them to know she was serious.

  “You see, Mylena is a world where magick exists. It’s in everything, including the curse that binds all creatures to the moons and keeps the ground eternally frozen. This demon is evil and very dangerous. But he was safely locked up for hundreds of years until I freed him by mistake, and now, while we stand here talking, at this very moment, he’s destroying that world…and it’s my fault.” She paused and took a deep breath. “That’s why I have to go back.”

  “What?” Her father stood again. “What do you mean go back?”

  “You’re obviously still confused,” her mother said in a high voice. “I admit that there isn’t much about what you’ve said that I understand, but I do know that you need to stay here with your family where you’ll be safe.”

  “Part of me wishes that I could, Mom. Part of me wants nothing more than to be your little girl again.”

  “Then let us help you do that,” she pleaded. Greta’s dad reached over and clasped his wife’s shaking hand. She squeezed it back tightly, and Greta’s heart clenched.

  “It’s too late. I’m not that child anymore. You don’t know how it was, what it was like…I’ve done too much to be a regular teenager again.”

  “Like what? What could you possibly have done?”

  She swallowed hard. “I’ve killed people, Dad.”

  “In self-defense,” he said tightly, although his gaze widened. “Everyone will understand.”

  She shook her head. This was the end, the moment when her parents would finally see her as a monster. “Not only in self-defense. I killed for…money.”

  Silence. “Did you hear me?” she asked. They both looked stunned.

  “No.” Her dad shook his head. “You’re only seventeen.”

  “Things are different in Mylena. The people are cursed, and sometimes they lose control.” It was going to be too difficult to explain the Lost, but she wanted to try. She didn’t want them to believe that she was a monster. “When that happens, they become savage and dangerous, and somebody has to stop them…”

  They hadn’t jumped up and demanded she get out of their house yet. Then again, it was clear that they still didn’t believe a word she was saying.

  “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m really good at what I do, and I know I can make a difference if I go back to Mylena to stop the demon.” She hesitated. “My life could mean something.”

  “You have a life here,” her mother insisted, twisting her hands together. “You’re our daughter, and we love you. We need you.”

  She shook her head with a sad smile. “I love you both, too, but you don’t really need me.”

  “How can you say that when you weren’t here?” Her voice broke on a desperate, high note. “You don’t know the hell we went through while you were gone. The con
stant fear and worry.”

  Her heart broke. “No, I don’t. But when I leave tomorrow, at least you’ll know that I’m doing so of my own free will this time. At least you’ll know that even if I can’t come back to you, I’m happy and safe.” Safe was an exaggeration, if not an outright lie, but she needed them to accept this. “You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  Her father did jump up then. “This is getting more ridiculous by the minute,” he snapped. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She pressed her lips together in disappointment. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but you can’t really stop me.”

  He crossed his arms, his expression stubbornly closed. “I think you should go to your room now. Tomorrow after you get out of school we can talk about how things are going to be from now on.”

  So it was going to be that way? They were just going to pretend this conversation hadn’t even taken place? With a sigh, she finally nodded. “All right. We can talk again tomorrow.”

  Her mother looked relieved, and her father’s shoulders sagged a little.

  Greta turned and walked toward the stairs, but she couldn’t go up without at least saying good-bye, because she had no intention of still being here in the morning.

  “Whatever happens…” She choked as tears stung the back of her throat. “Thank you for everything. Thank you for accepting me and not being ashamed of me.”

  Her mom came forward and wrapped her up in a hug. “Greta, you’re our daughter, our flesh and blood. We love you.” She paused, and Greta’s chest hurt. The disappointment and sadness in her mother’s eyes was overwhelming. “You belong here. You’ll always have a home with us.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. She was partly glad her parents hadn’t believed her about Mylena and what she’d done there. When she left this house for the last time, she’d leave a note. Hopefully they wouldn’t worry too much, and since they hadn’t believed her about Mylena, at least she didn’t have to worry they would think she was a monster.

 

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