No. Esther, it’s okay. I’m here.
She jumps, and I jump.
“What?” she says, looks around. Her neck clicks. “Sev—”
Talk to me in your head, I cut in quickly. Raleigh can’t know I’m alive.
Esther breathes in deeply, and her breath whistles. Then she rubs the back of her neck. Pain flares up in her hip, and I try to ignore how it feels like it’s happening to me—because her body is mine now, while I’m here.
“What happened?” Esther says.
Raleigh folds his arms slowly, then unfolds them. He’s got a gold ring on his finger, and he twists it around. “Shania escaped and chose to kill herself.”
Esther’s eyes widen.
No, I tell her. I escaped and Raleigh got control of my body. He made me crash. I… I did die, but I came back. Death saved me, Esther. But, listen—Corin’s coming to get you out.
Esther bites her bottom lip, hard. We wince. She looks down at her hip.
I’m not sure I can get away.
“Shania’s death is a tragedy,” Raleigh says, still twisting his gold ring. “She has died at the wrong time and the augury will be a lie now.” He clears his throat. “Shania’s loss means the augury cannot be fulfilled. It means the Gods will write a new augury, or they may not. Perhaps the war will never end. Shania may have caused eternal suffering, though I will, of course, do my best to end it myself.”
I stare at him, stare at him through Esther’s eyes, feel the anger rising within me—my own body, back in the open—feel it threatening to tip, and then Esther gulps, and I feel the hot rush of her tears as they run down her face, feel her body shudder, her nose prickle, and—
But I am alive! Esther, Raleigh doesn’t know. We have the advantage. Us, the Untamed.
Briefly, I wonder whether I can get a message to my mother via Esther, a message telling her I’m definitely alive. In case she doesn’t know, in case she’s grieving… But, if my mother knows, could Raleigh extract the information from her?
A radio blares out, and Esther and I both jump. I turn her head, look to the left.
Raleigh pulls the device from his pocket, speaks into it. I try to hear what he’s saying, but he’s talking quietly, secretively, and Esther’s breathing is too loud, and she’s still hiccupping and crying.
Raleigh smiles widely at Esther as he puts the radio away. I feel the goosebumps rise on Esther’s arms. Her heart speeds up, matches my own, far away in my body. She takes a deep breath, and her gulp stutters.
“I have good news,” Raleigh says. “Very good news—and this will make it much easier for you to cope with Shania’s death. You’re feeling too much, and it is destroying you. The badness and the pain. But the augmenters are ready now. The new ones. We’ve been using your friend Soraya to test them, and she has shown no reaction to these ones, even after multiple administrations of the different grades.”
I feel the blood drain from my face—Esther’s face—and I grip my hands together, clench them hard—realize I’ve made Esther do it.
Oh Gods.
“Oh Gods,” Esther whispers.
And then Raleigh grips her, grips me. His fingers, bruising around her arm, and—
And I fight back.
Esther cries out as I take over her body, every part; somehow, I stand up, wobbling, my body wracking with pain. Esther’s leg on the injured side seems shorter, makes me feel off-balance. I look Raleigh in the eye.
Then I punch him.
The movement twists through my body, but my left hip—Esther’s left hip—won’t turn, and jarring pain fills my spine. I gasp and—
Someone grabs me, hands around my throat. Big hands with gnarly fingers, fingers that dig into my skin, my throat.
My own one.
I’m thrown back into my body, lose the connection, lose Esther. Leave her with Raleigh and—
I scream, try to turn, try to see, kick out as I’m dragged backward by someone. Sand and dust fly up, create a cloud. I try to flip my body over, try to see my attacker—but pain kicks through me. My ribs. Something moves and—
I see my dog running away, running as fast as he can, yapping and—
My head’s yanked back.
I see him, my attacker.
I see him, and everything stops.
No.
No.
No.
It can’t be.
Dead. He—
But he’s not dead. He’s here. Right here and—
This keeps happening. How can it keep happening?
His lips peel back as he smiles, delivers the most aggressive smile I’ve ever seen. He drags me to my feet, then lets go of me, and my body locks up. I can’t breathe; it feels like there’s ice in my veins.
I stare at him. “Rahn?”
He looks the same.
Rahn Eriksen looks the same. Messy dark hair, sunglasses, that hooked nose. The lean body that makes him look weaker than he is.
I stare at him. My breath catches on the lumps in my throat. Nausea squeezes me with its fine fingers.
I stare at him, continue to stare—it’s all I can do. He’s here. Here. Really here.
But he’s dead.
Three killed him. Shot him. I saw him die.
He died.
But he’s here, back. And he’s real? Substantial—unless….
My hand goes to my neck, and I feel where his hands were only moments before. I swallow hard, my throat feels thick. Bruised? He’s real. Whatever he is, he’s real.
He steps forward. You’re goin’ to help me, Seven. And you’re goin’ to help me now.
It’s—he’s like Jed, speaking the same way Jed did that last time and—
But they’re real. They’re both real. Jed got the key for me, so I could drive out of the city.
Real. But not?
Do it! Rahn yells, and I step back, feel the wind pick up around me. Warm fingers.
I look around for the dog, can’t see him—where did he go? A whimper builds in my throat.
“Rahn,” I say, but my voice is weak. I sound pathetic. “Rahn…” And I shouldn’t even be saying his name. He shouldn’t be here.
But Jed shouldn’t have been here either.
“Rahn!” I throw my arms up in the air. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand!” Oh Gods. How can it be him?
The sun glints off his dark glasses, and I think of the eyes underneath. My stomach drops a little. Then Rahn moves his arm—his hand goes to his pocket. He pulls something out, points it at me.
A gun. A Fort-17. A semi-automatic pistol. A real semi-automatic pistol.
My breath bursts from me in short, sharp bursts. I stare at the gun as he points it at me, lines it up with my face. The light glints off it.
How about now? Rahn’s hand shakes wildly, and the Fort-17 jumps about. Do you understand now?
I try to see if the safety is on, but I can’t. My eyes won’t focus properly. I’m panicking. My head pounds—not enough oxygen, and my mind’s going wild, trying to work out what he is…like Jed? Disappearing and reappearing whenever they want? But the gun’s real…and the vehicle’s key was real and….
Neither made it to the New World. They can’t have. They’re both trapped here, their souls.
I take a step back and—
Rahn pulls the trigger.
I scream, throw myself down. Taste grit and sand. The sound of the bullet ricochets through me. I scream again, my voice breaking, lift my head up, look at my arms. There’s no pain—no new pain, no—
Something clicks in front of me, and I turn my head, see Rahn coming for me again, the gun leading him, as if it’s in control. Adrenaline pours through me, and I shriek loudly—a high-pitched squeak that hurts a part of me, some part, far, far away. I roll over. My foot hits something as I pull myself up, and I leap forward, but at an angle.
It’s your fault! Rahn roars at me, and he’s waving the Fort-17 like a mad man.
My heart pounds, and I look behind me
, quick. Then I lift my hands up, show my palms, the surrender gesture. “Rahn…put it down. Just…just put the gun down.”
But he doesn’t. He leaps forward, bounding toward me like a gazelle, and I twist out of his way, pain snaking through me.
It’s your fault I never made it there, he screams, and then he points a finger at me. A gnarled, twisted finger. And you have to fix it. You have to do it now. You didn’t send me off! And I’m trapped—but you! You claim to be a Seer. So do it. Open the channel for me. Do it now!
Do it now? I stare at him, feel my eyes go all glassy.
“Rahn, I… I can’t. I—”
He lunges for me, and I jolt backward, feel something shift in my chest—a movement that makes me feel sicker than ever.
Do it! Do it now! I know you can! And you don’t understand….
He throws his arms into the air wildly—the pistol still in his right hand—and then he’s knocked his glasses from his face. And—
And his eyes aren’t Enhanced.
But they’re not Untamed either.
Fire pours through me as I stare at him. They’re not there. His eyes aren’t there.
Just dark sockets. Like Death’s, but…but different.
And the more I stare at his face. The more I see it. See him. See the layers dropping away. How his skin isn’t an intact sheet but is in tatters, falling away in shreds, revealing muscles and sinews and tissues that have a ghostly sheen. The light around us flashes and in that second, I see a skull.
His skull.
Rahn’s skull.
He lifts his arm up—and the wind wraps around him, tries to drag his shirt away, but it just exposes his form. The thin arms. Arms that are bones with chunks of flesh hanging onto them.
Pressure builds in my chest, and then I can’t breathe. I turn, choking, but he’s there—on the other side of me, moved too quickly. And he’s leaning in closer. I see every grotesque feature of his face.
I’m disintegratin’, Rahn whispers, and that whisper wraps around me, squeezes me, and his words are abrasive, like sandpaper, dragging against my skin.
I try to lean away but the tendrils of those words encase me, force me closer to him. And the smell—I gag. Putrid, rotting flesh.
I’m disintegratin’ and it’s only goin’ to get worse. My voice was the first to change…and now my body’s shatterin’… I’m lost between worlds, floating in the void, yet trapped here… Pain is everywhere, Seven! Make it stop! Send me to the New World. Do it!
I try to step back, but he grabs me. That skeletal hand and—and it burns.
Burns me.
Like flames. And then I see fire—see it for a second before I blink: huge, orange flames dancing.
Rahn hisses. It gets worse, every day, every hour. My shell is unwrappin’ more, and it hurts. You’ve no idea how much it bloody hurts. Send me to the New World—do it now! I ain’t becomin’ one of them. Send me there now!
His words echo through me.
“One of who?”
One of the spirits! What’s left of Rahn’s top lip quivers and curls.
My body jolts. A spirit? He’s—I yank my arm from him, breathing hard, try to turn. Need to get away.
He’s wrong. He’s not going to become one. He’s a spirit already.
Oh Gods.
How didn’t I realize? He’s dangerous. He’ll hurt me, eat me.
Evil spirits want to kill people—and Rahn’s one of them…not a good one, is he? But even the good ones can be bad.
I look at him, my jaw slackening. He’s a spirit. Rahn’s a spirit.
He opens his mouth, and I see a lone tooth, but it’s different—not human. Too pointy, a big fang.
It’s everywhere! he screams. My anger, everywhere. Anger at you, at me, at everyone—and the hunger. It’s killing me! I want to eat you, Seven! But I can resist now because I am still only just transformin’. It can take years for some. Days for others—there are no rules—I’ve watched it! But save me! I’ve seen what they’re like. How desperate they are, the spirits. The anger that fills them, that consumes them. Anger because of the pain. An eternity of sufferin’ that their family and friends didn’t save them from.
You should’ve sent me to the New World. You should’ve done that—when your brother killed me, you should’ve done it! Do it now. You owe me that. Do it now, because I’m hungry.
The sky cracks, and I see colors. Dark blues and oranges. Purples and reds. All swirling together.
My mouth dries, and my tongue’s all scratchy. My heart pounds.
No. No. No. It’s happened too quickly—no warning. None at all.
The Turning.
Shit. He’s made it happen. Rahn’s brought on the Turning.
Now’s the time to do it, Rahn whispers, but his whisper is a snake, a snake weaving toward me. Now’s the time when I’m strong enough. Send me to the New World!
I turn and run—somehow manage to run, despite the pain and my broken body.
The sky hisses—everything around me hisses—and then Rahn’s hissing. He’s right here. But it’s just his face. His face floating along next to me, keeping up. Trails of wispiness fly out behind him, and he’s just like the spirits in the Noir Lands, the ones that tried to eat me, the ones that ate the Zharat man and—
I scream as something hits me, and I fall forward. Turn in the sand, panting, see something dark, a mass of it behind me, quivering. Another spirit? Another person who never made it to the New World? My heart pounds. Is that what they really are?
My head pounds with images, with flashes, with words. I can’t think. Got to run. And I scrabble up, and I’m running—I died earlier, yet I’m running.
But not fast though.
Seven! Rahn yells, and—
My foot hits something, and I fall again. Fall heavily, this time, most of my weight going through my right wrist. Feel a heavy crunch, and the wind’s knocked out of me. I gasp, look to my left, see Rahn—
Rahn and the other spirits.
I swallow twice, quickly, my throat raw. My chest rises and falls too quickly as I stare at them, stare at the skulls and bones, the dancing eyes, the masses of color. They all look different. Different and—
A spirit shrieks, and the sound haunts me. Pain in my head and—
And I’m out in the Turning. Shit! The most dangerous time. Oh Gods—
Save me! Rahn screams.
I whirl around as I try to get up, stumble and put a foot wrong, onto something cold and—
My body jerks, and then I’m upright. But I can’t see him, Rahn, not now and—
Oh Gods. My chest tightens. The spirits…so many of them…and they’re all here and….
And what if they’re all like Rahn? What if they all want me to save them? What if that’s why they come after us in the Turnings? What if that’s their main reason, but they’re hungry too—and they can’t help it…but they first come because they want help…they want to be saved…and we didn’t know.
My head pounds, my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I can’t save Rahn, can’t save any of them. I can’t open a path to the New World for them—it’s too late. People have to be sent off as soon as they die to help their chances of getting there, to the New World…we all know that! And these people didn’t make it.
But Five got there, and she wasn’t sent off.
But she was Untamed.
She’d have a better chance of getting to the New World anyway. And Rahn…was Enhanced—the Gods and Goddesses would’ve stopped him from getting there. I go cold, look around. Were most of these spirits Enhanced in their lives? And that’s why they didn’t make it to the New World, why they’re here now…and that’s why there are more sprits now? More spirits than before, than years ago…because the number can only grow when the Enhanced are increasing, and dying when even their augmenters can’t save their far-aged bodies or when we kill them….
My head pounds. dizzy, I’m dizzy. Disorientated.
Do it now!<
br />
Suddenly, Rahn’s right in front of me, and he looks more human again. But then his image wavers, wavers like it’s a projection—a projection, except he’s solid, solid because he grabs me again, screeches into my ear, and pain—so much pain and—
I throw white light at him, but he dodges it, and it hits a spirit behind him. A mesh of snarling and hissing and—
Come here!
Save me!
Help me!
Let me eat you!
The voices jolt through me—and I hear them as people now—and it does something to me, makes me feel sick.
Lightning forks through the sky, and I scream—scream as thunder encases me, scream as more spirits come for me.
I start running again, running blindly. Don’t know where I am. It’s just desert, sand and desert, and I’m so disorientated, and I’ve covered ground. The copse with the old vehicle should be somewhere about, but it’s not and—
I throw more white light as a spirit gets too close. How are there so many here? I thought the land around New Kimearo had few spirits…but there are loads—they’re all coming, coming for me? Because Rahn’s called them? Because it’s the Turning. Oh Gods. I turn my head, try to see where Rahn is, but can’t. It’s just the others. The skulls, the bones, the ones with thousands of eyes. And they’re shouting at me, and my ears are roaring with blood and their words, and I’m running as hard as I can, as fast as I can. Feel more energy flood into me. My chest numbs a little, the pain eases. Against my skin, my mother’s Seer pendant burns, and I think of Corin. He’s out there in this—the Turning—and he’s not a Seer. He can’t defend himself against spirits.
Neither can you.
The words swoop at me, and I shriek and—
Something bites me.
She can save us all, get us to the New World!
I kick out, feel a splattering of liquid across the back of my head, my neck, turn and—
A skull, in front of me.
And everything goes white.
I open my eyes, groggy, confused, but certain that some time has passed. Pain dances over me, and I blink—the light’s too bright, but it’s only in slivers. A strip of it, on either side of me. Above and below is darkness, but the light itself is too white. I squint, feel my head get heavier. My neck creaks.
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