There had been no body, she thought. Where was Owen buried?
Her feet faltered as she felt for the fault lines of her broken world. And then she touched them, saw the cracks lit beneath her fingers like veins. Like bursts of lightning, zigzagging, crisscrossing, faint lines of sizzling blue and white illuminating her brother’s face, as though he hid between the bushes of heather. And just as suddenly, he was gone again, drowned in what sounded like a rush of wind, or maybe whispers. Nora strained against the encroaching darkness, eager to see Owen once more, feel his presence by her side. She bared her teeth. One more time.
Heat like open flame flushed through her body, uncoiling in a whiplash as she reached out to touch a fingertip, to follow the imprint the lines had left on the insides of her closed eyelids. Burning, crackling electric blue shot through her arm and deep into her heart like the steel of a knife, hot like fury.
“Here. I brought you some—” Shade’s voice ripped into her.
She spun toward her companion, a retort on her tongue. Her anger flickered, though. There Owen stood, with his arms wide open, beckoning her to come forward. His lips moved, but the wind took all sound from them.
No.
Rage rose, seeking release, striking out like wildfire from the palm of Nora’s outstretched hand.
She tottered, recoiling from a heat blast blazing near her face.
There Shade stood, hand holding out a steaming cup of tea. He stared at her for a moment, eyebrows raised high, jaw hanging open. His grip on the cup loosened, and Nora watched it fall into the bushes.
Shade toppled over slowly, following the cup’s arc.
Screaming.
Writhing.
In pain.
Nora stood, rooted to the spot, eyes wide open but unseeing, uncomprehending. Then she gasped. The world spun around her as she hurried blurry-eyed toward the wounded young man. White the snow, black the earth, and red the blood on Shade’s side. A burn tearing across his chest, melting his flesh, eating deep into his ribs.
Chapter 4
Nora dropped down next to Shade, her knees making deep grooves in the sand. Her hands were steady as she grabbed his shoulders to turn him toward her, though her nerves were frayed. He flinched from her, whimpering, breath ragged, and huddled together, arms crossed over his chest. She tried to pry his arms away to look at his injury, but he clenched his teeth and hugged himself tighter.
“Shade, let me look.”
“It hurts,” he gasped.
“I know. Burns always fucking hurt.”
“What did you do? You slung fire. At me.” He opened his eyes, sweat pouring down his scrunched-up forehead. “Why?”
“I-I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Gods, it hurts.” He curled together again.
“Let me look!” Nora pulled at his arm, and he finally let her.
His shirt was still smoldering. It had burst into flame and hung in shreds on Shade’s lean frame. She tugged at it to take it off. The pale skin beneath had turned scarlet, scalded as though by boiling water, blistering, weeping. As Shade moved under her hands, as she pulled at the remnants of his shirt, the skin tore from him in pulpy strips of melded flesh and fabric.
Shade screamed.
Nora gagged, but swallowed it down and got to work. She had done this, so she had to fix it.
Shade’s breath grew labored, wet.
“What have you done?” he choked.
“I don’t know. It was Owen.” She worked feverishly, rummaging through his backpack to find something clean enough to use for bandages, pouring the last of the fresh water from their waterskins over him. It pooled pink underneath him, as he arched and drummed his heels, screaming silently. “I thought I saw Owen.”
Despite Nora’s efforts, the burn was still spreading, inching farther across Shade’s chest, his shoulders, up his throat, like a crimson wave washing under his pale skin. There was too much damage already. He was going to—
No! Don’t even think that.
He could make it. He had to. She hadn’t just killed Shade. It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be. She had been trying to save him all this time. And she didn’t even know what she had done, for fuck’s sake.
Frantically, heart pounding in her ears, she started clawing at the powdery snow and piled it on top of him in big handfuls. Unheeding of his cries, she bound up the melting snow with the bandages. Cool the burn. Stop it. That was the key, right? And didn’t she know? How many burns had she suffered while coaling? It was nearly routine. You cool the burn. You stop the bleeding. All would be well. Routine. Calming routine.
“Nora.” Shade’s arm trembled as he clutched her shoulder. Blood drops lined his lips and chin. “Owen’s gone.”
“No. Shut up. You’re gonna need your strength.”
All would be well.
He snorted twice through his nose. A laugh of sorts. He squeezed her shoulder. But he was so weak. Gods, so weak. She paused and looked down at him, caressing his forehead, her fingers leaving a trail of blood. Not hers. The burn had come to a temporary halt over his jaw, not quite blushing his cheeks.
“Nora.”
“You’re going to be fine, Shade. I promise.”
“Do you smell the salt?” he whispered, his voice husky with pain.
“No.”
Her chest ached as she tied the last knot, watching the blood seep through the bandages. She took hold of his hand on her shoulder and pressed his knuckles to her mouth.
“No, I can’t,” she sniffed. Her eyes were moist, damn them. “I can’t smell the salt.”
“Taste it.” He swallowed hard, inhaling deep even as his chest spasmed in protest.
She sat back on her heels, aware of his eyes on her, and inhaled, lips apart, tongue halfway out, as though she were trying to catch snowflakes with it. But her mouth only filled with the salty scent of blood, of burned meat and fat, everything turning to ashes in the bitterness that rose. She closed her mouth and shook her head.
“I can’t.”
Shade had blood plastered on his forehead, a scalding burn on his pale skin, and his hair was dark with sweat. His eyes were clouded with pain, storm clouds gathering on a humid summer’s day. She pushed a strand of his hair to the side, smiling weakly. Maybe it was time to say goodbye. Say goodbye while he was still there. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears away.
“It’s fine,” he whispered.
“No, it’s not.” She slammed her fists on her bent knees. “Nothing’s fucking fine.”
The anger was there again, raising its ugly head once more. Anger at herself. She shouldn’t vent at him. Shade had taken enough. She looked away, to the sky, the ever-changing sky, to the endless stretch of marsh reeds below, sight blurring.
Then she stood. And blinked the moisture away.
There! Between the dunes, a stretch of black. The ocean. Perhaps.
She looked back down. Shade had closed his eyes, face still fierce in anguish. Still alive, though.
If it was the ocean, it was less than a mile away. A mile Shade didn’t have in him. But the water would be clean and cold. Salt water healed, right?
She stooped low and pushed Shade’s arm over her shoulder, the other snaking around his back, careful not to bump against his tender skin, grabbing his leather belt to hoist him to his feet. He groaned but stood, wobbly, his weight heavy on her. She adjusted her grip, distributing his bulk a little more evenly, grabbing their sparse belongings.
“Come on, you,” she said as he gulped for air, head lolling against her shoulder. “We’re going to the beach. Build sandcastles and stuff. You know? Ever built sandcastles?”
“Desert. I grew up in,” he wheezed. Blood spilled from his mouth onto her shoulder. “Sand. Everywhere.”
“Ah, but not like this. You’ll see. One step after the other. Easy does it.”
He was heavy, even after the first step. It got worse the farther they walked, hobbled. Together. Twice they stopped to take a breather. Shade h
unched over, crumpling in on himself. Blood spattered to the ground and he groaned, stretching upright once more. Nora wished she hadn’t used all the clean water on his wound. She shoveled the cold snow into her hands and gave him a ball of it to eat and quench his thirst, sticking more down the remnants of his shirt. She slipped out of her own woolen tunic, tying the sleeves around her waist, sweat rolling down her body, itching. Sucking on snow, she wondered where to get fresh water near the briny ocean. It was time to get moving again. He was looking worse.
“Come on, Owen, it’s not far,” she said as she pulled him onto her shoulder.
Shade looked at her and tried a trembling smile instead of correcting her. His chin was covered in dried blood, cracking under his effort. Nora swallowed down the lump choking her and forced them forward. Her throat was parched. Her eyes fixed on the dark blue line ahead, a blacker shade in the night falling around them.
Red and black motes danced before her eyes, sparks of iridescent blue flaring up occasionally. She strained to hear Owen’s voice in the darkness of her mind, but he was gone. Maybe if she concentrated on the blue sparks, tapped into the ancient blade magic, maybe she could find him again, but it was always hard to find anything when you were actively looking for it, especially when she felt lost and all alone and the panic crested over her like a monster wave. Shade made a gargling sound that alarmed her and she picked up her pace, walking with long, merciless strides, careful not to stumble and cause Shade discomfort, let alone fall. She ground her teeth together, jaw tight and aching. If she could tap into the ancient blade magic, she should use it to heal Shade, undo what was done, what she had done to him. If only she could figure out what she had done…
As they reached the beach, the fury of the sound broke over them, drowning out the bitter wind that swept the emptiness.
Nora never reached the waterline. She fell to her knees halfway across, but had enough sense left to fall to the side which Shade wasn’t on. He dropped into the white sand beside her, and they both simply lay down, gasping for breath, holding hands.
We made it, she thought, staring at the spinning spots before her closed eyes. We made it this far. Just a little more. Dunk him in.
Her legs and hands trembled as she tried to sit up, so she flopped back down, exhausted.
Just a little more.
* * *
The wet woke her from her dreamless sleep. The waves of the incoming tide licked at her legs and she sat up, shivering with cold, feeling the dull ache of weariness still embedded in her bones, in her flesh, her muscles screaming in protest. Dawn was breaking, a reluctant light stretched limply at the far edge of the ocean. At the far, far edge. She rubbed her eyes and cursed. More sand in them. She blinked the blur away and turned to look at Shade.
He lay in the same position they had fallen asleep in, flat on his back, one hand resting lightly on an unburned patch of his stomach. Eyes closed. Brow smooth.
At peace.
“Shade?”
Her hand on his shoulder, mounting dread overwriting the confusion within her, Nora bent closer.
He wasn’t moving.
He’s just unconscious. She shook her head. Unconscious. They had just been talking—what? Ten minutes ago? How long had she slept?
“Shade?”
She shook him a little by the shoulder. He was still warm. Warm and scalded from the burn. Her burn. Her hand jerked back.
She turned to stare at the eternity of the waves before her, unheeding as they splashed against her, push and pull. Push and pull. Slapping her with the immensity of…nothing. Look at us, they laughed at her, look at us, always moving, always advancing, always falling back. Repeating. Devouring. Perpetual motion, the endless cycle. We will wear you down. Or drag you with us. And leave this beach empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Owen was gone.
Shade was gone.
It was only a matter of time, and she would join them.
Nora rose slowly, dripping salt water from her body, from her eyes.
Fuck the waves. Fuck their cycle. Fuck everything.
See, all she had to do was stand up. Was she walking? Were her feet moving? She lifted her eyes, taking it all in—the sky, the sea, the sand. She circled. Spinning, spinning.
Until she stopped.
A little flame burned at the bottom of her stomach, a flicker of heat, wavering, ready to die. Here was the razor’s edge. The edge of all things. One side fire, the other side water. One side life, the other side…
Well, fuck dying.
“Fuck dying,” she muttered.
The waves laughed and lapped at her, never ending.
She turned back. One set of footprints along the beach, as though rising from the water. Shade’s body was already stolen, gone. Slipped away down the silent road.
Her hands curled into fists.
Let them come, those waves. Let them come at her. What more could they possibly take? She was alone. She had nothing left, no hope, no fear, no expectation other than death. So let it come. She’d stare death down. Give Lara a dose of her fucked-up face. Half life, half burn.
Burn.
Burn.
Burn.
The flame flared up in a roar as loud as the ocean.
“Fuck dying!”
Chapter 5
Nora stood at the railing of the trader’s boat, gaze fixed on the dark stain on the horizon. Storm coming. Following the boat. Following her. The sea was rough, spray hitting her in the face, but she didn’t turn away, didn’t go downstairs to the cabins. The other passengers flinched when they saw her, and the crew made a wide berth around her as she stood alone, shoulders wrapped in her shabby fur, hand on her knife at all times. The brooding, silent warrior. Gods, Diaz would be so proud.
Her lips twitched into a grim smile.
She had been sure he’d follow her. That she’d lead him away from Bashan’s corrupting influence. But he hadn’t shown up. Not during the days when Shade had been alive. Not during the two weeks of lonely travel along the coastline, expecting to see him sitting cross-legged at a campfire, waiting for her to catch up. It hurt a bit. But then again, the world seemed intent on showing her up, destroying certainties like that her brother would always be at her side, that she would be able to keep him safe, that she’d be able to keep all of them safe. Staring at the horizon like it was a long-lost lover, Nora shook her head.
Bashan was right. He should have killed her a long time ago. Well…that was something he could still remedy. In fact, she was planning on him to do so. So maybe it was better if Diaz wasn’t around.
The outliers of the storm reached them, waves tossing the small trader’s boat to and fro, and rain set in. The few passengers heaving their lunch over the railing retreated downstairs, making Nora even more firm in her decision not to go down there. Salt water below, sweet water above. Realm of Neeze, realm of Indis. Another set of twin goddesses. She held out her hand, palm up, to feel the patter sting.
“You’ll catch a cold, missy.” One of the sailors was doing something with rope, but took a moment to care. “Best go inside till we’ve reached the harbor.”
She raised her chin a little.
“I don’t get cold anymore. I carry the heat of the south within me.”
Her response made the sailor shrug. He had tried. If the crazy wench wanted to get wet and fall over the side of the boat, what was it to him? At least she had paid beforehand, right?
Nora smiled. This was the world she knew. There was another. Worlds within worlds.
She closed her hand gently, trapping the raindrops within it.
But it wasn’t just rain.
At the edge of things—that’s where she could find the blue specks of magic, unveiled to her sight now. And she held one cupped between her fingers. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she had slipped beyond sanity when Owen died, the silver form that swallowed him haunting her dreams. Maybe before that, though. Maybe when she’d been in that cistern, the sun
burning down on her, severed from everything but pain and rage, maybe that was when she’d really lost it. But she had seen the broken, gleaming blue light of the ancient magic once more on her journey down the coastline. Hunkering between the tall rushes in the sandy dunes, she had tried to light a small fire. Her flint struck against the steel of her knife, futile at first, the sparks not reaching the tinder. Anger rose, and at the next strike, her knife slipped, raking across the ball of her thumb, the open cut stinging, blood drops spattering in the sand. Instinctively she had raised her hand to put the wound to her mouth, but then she saw it. She froze, her hand held in midair, pain forgotten.
The light. It was pouring from her cut with the blood. The life is in the blood. Blood magic. It had made her laugh out loud, scaring the seagulls.
Since she knew what to look for, she saw it. Everywhere. Like dust caught in sunbeams. All she had to do was stretch out her hand, and the current of air from her movement would whirl them around in a dance. Now she held a speck, its cold life pulsing to a beat of its own in the cup of her fingers, and raised it to her lips.
“Owen?”
Talk about going crazy. She nearly laughed. But it felt as though the whisper of voices grew stronger, bubbling up within her when she held on to the light. A tug deep within her, pulling her southward in a throb of pain. Then the speck shrank to nothing and her palm was empty once more.
Nora straightened and stared at the storm clouds piling up.
She was still on track, then.
* * *
The traders pulled into a small harbor north of Moorfleet a few days later. Nora walked down the gangplank into the bustle of the crowds on the wharves, ambling in the narrow cobbled streets, wondering whether to find passage on a different boat, head for the ancient capital city of the north. However, when she asked how much it would cost, she was warned not to go to Moorfleet. There seemed to be a nameless horror lurking there, as every time she asked why, the people fell silent, shaking their heads. So she bartered for supplies with the last pennies she could find in Shade’s purse. Too bad she had left her own full one on the Isle of Awakening. Well, she had left many things there.
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